We'll Always Have Kansas
by asesina
Summary: Season 5 AU. Now complete. After the apocalypse, the Winchesters have to pick up the pieces and deal with renegade angels and vengeful spirits in the meantime. Warnings: the final chapter has several major character deaths.
1. that same small town in each of us

We'll Always Have Kansas by asesina

Disclaimer: Kripke owns SPN.

A/N: set after the apocalypse ends. Dean wakes up in the Impala and finds himself in Lawrence, Kansas. Castiel makes an appearance and lets him know what happened and drops hints about the future.

Written on a whim. I don't think it's particularly stellar or complete, but I felt like writing a weird little fic like this. Non-beta. Enjoy!

"_But, somewhere back there in the dust  
That same small town in each of us…"_

Don Henley, "The End of the Innocence"

Dean was instantly aware of the pain in his left side. His eyelids slowly fluttered open as they adjusted to the glaring sunlight that seemed to aim at his pupils with laser precision.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered as his eyes finally adjusted to the light. He nearly jumped when he saw that he was sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala. The car was still running.

Dean could feel the heat of day beating down on the Impala, and the overheated engine didn't make matters any better. He turned off the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition.

Dean looked at his surroundings with bleary, unfocused eyes. He felt like he had just been hit in the head or been out on a week-long Jack Daniels bender.

He was surprised to see that he was parked on the side of a quiet residential street. There was something oddly familiar about the road, but he couldn't quite remember why.

Dean exhaled slowly as he massaged his temples. He didn't remember driving to this street at all. What the hell kind of business did he have on Wisteria Lane?

Dean seemed to recall vague glimpses of a sword, glowing yellow eyes, and dozens of dead bodies in a boundless field.

Either the Apocalypse had just happened or he had watched too much _Lord of the Rings_.

The _Apocalypse_.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean muttered. He sighed in frustration as he unsuccessfully attempted to make sense of the past few days, weeks, or however the hell long he had been out.

_Did the world really just end?_

Dean decided that sitting in the Impala wouldn't answer any of his burning questions, so he cautiously opened the door of the car and looked around before stepping out into the heat.

Dean winced as he stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. When he set his left leg on the hard blacktop, it sent jolts of pain up his left leg. Dean nearly doubled over from the pain. He was barely able to stand, so he leaned on the trunk of the Impala to steady himself for a moment.

"What the hell just happened to me?" Dean wondered aloud, wincing as he pulled up his jeans leg to examine the damage.

His left leg was a bloody mess. Dirt and dried blood covered the dozens of lacerations and bruises that decorated his leg like a sticky mosaic.

Dean almost gagged at the sight. His hand flew to his left side, and he was horrified to find several shallow stab wounds and scratch marks on his abdomen and chest.

"Did I get in a fucking car accident or what?" Dean asked himself. He looked around the street to see if he could find a phone, a person, _anything_.

"No, Dean. You saved the world."

Dean's eyes widened when he heard the familiar gravelly voice.

"Cas?!" he exclaimed, spinning around in disbelief.

He was instantly sorry for moving so quickly. His body complained in reply and sent millions of angry signals to the sensory receptors on the left side of his body.

"Hey," Dean managed with a grimace.

Castiel was unbearably luminous. He was undoubtedly revealing a little of his true form, and Dean could only look at him through the slits of his eyes.

"Cas, turn off the fireworks. I can't even look at you, man," Dean admitted gruffly.

He stared at Castiel with reverence and even a little fear as the angel stared back at him with his steely blue eyes.

"Dean, hold still," Castiel commanded. He put a hand to Dean's forehead and whispered a few words.

Dean looked down at his leg and gingerly touched his side.

The pain was completely gone.

"Cas, would you mind telling me what the hell is going on here? Where am I? What happened?" Dean demanded, glaring at Castiel with wild, frantic eyes.

"Dean, please," Castiel said firmly. He exhaled slowly and lessened the brightness of his aura as he stepped closer to Dean.

"Are you ready, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Ready for what, Cas? What the hell's going on?" Dean demanded.

"Are you ready to know what really happened?" Castiel continued, motioning for Dean to follow him. He started to walk down the cul-de-sac towards a little green street sign that was just out of eyesight.

Dean's eyes widened when he read the cheery cursive greeting:

"Welcome to Lawrence".

"What are we doing in Lawrence, Cas?" Dean asked. His voice rose several octaves, and Castiel raised a hand in the air and motioned for Dean to calm down.

"We're back at the beginning, Dean," Castiel said mysteriously.

"Why did you take me here? Cas, you can't just teleport me to my hometown and expect me to start over," Dean said exasperatedly.

He glared at the angel, but Castiel simply looked away.

"You're lucky that you have forgotten so much," Castiel said ruefully. He started into Dean's questioning eyes, and he motioned for Dean to continue following him.

Dean's thoughts suddenly turned to his little brother. He remembered a vague feeling of fear and dread, but he ignored it and put his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"Cas, where's Sam?" Dean asked in a low voice.

Snippets of conversations, fights, and bitter accusations floated to the surface of his conscious mind. Dean remembered Sam abandoning him at the motel in Omaha. He saw Sam catch a ride at the corner without even turning to give him one last glare.

Dean also saw flashes of a terrible battle. He saw Sam's eyes turn yellow as the veins on his forehead bulged with a blood that was so curdled and evil it could only mean one thing.

"Sam gave in," Castiel said suddenly.

"Where the hell is he now, Cas?" Dean shouted. His heart hammered in his chest as he attempted to sort out his thoughts and, most importantly, continue to inhale and exhale.

Dean was nearly hyperventilating when Castiel put a hand on his chest.

"Stop," he commanded, and Dean's heart slowed to a regular pace.

"Dean, I cannot reveal everything to you. You will remember it all in time," Castiel began.

"Just tell me where Sam is!" Dean cried. His eyes were rimmed with bitter tears, and he feared the answers to his desperate questions.

"Dean, we don't know," Castiel said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean demanded angrily. He brought his face close to Castiel's as he squinted into the angel's ice blue eyes.

"We don't know if Lucifer destroyed his body or if he's still alive," Castiel admitted. Dean's shoulders slumped with exhaustion and maybe, just maybe, a hint of relief.

"Dean, there's no use in looking for Sam right now. Even if he is alive, he will not be the brother you remember," Castiel admonished, noting the brief look of sadness that crossed Dean's face.

"Maybe it's better if he did die. I wouldn't want a brain dead zombie for a brother," Dean muttered, wondering if he really believed what he was saying.

"Dean, this isn't about you and Sam. This is about you. You have the chance to start over," Castiel said in an attempt to distract Dean from his wistful reverie.

"What do I have left, Cas? I lost everyone that I ever loved. I don't have anyone left. Hell, after giving me this speech, you'll probably disappear with a blink like _I Dream of Jeannie_," Dean said.

"What genie?" Castiel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just some old show with this hot genie named Jeannie who'd… never mind," Dean trailed off as he noticed Castiel's confused expression.

"I'm not going to disappear right now, Dean. I needed to bring you here for a reason. There are things happening here beyond my control. You could consider me the messenger," Castiel said.

"From God?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yes, from the Lord," Castiel answered with resolve.

"So, what the hell happened? I'm unconscious in the Impala and you show up and heal me. What happened before all this return to memory lane crap?" Dean asked.

"We won," Castiel said.

"What? You mean Lucifer's gone?" Dean asked with wide eyes. "How?"

"You said yes too," Castiel replied.

"So I was Michael?" Dean asked with a confused expression.

"Yes," Castiel answered.

"How'd I look? Was it like Highlander?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"It was over in an instant, Dean. The battle had been going on for days, and you didn't want to do it. You didn't want to fight Sam. Over a third of the world's population died, and you were nowhere to be found. You finally accepted, and you and Sam fought in Wyoming. The sky was dark and the fields were littered with bodies. It was just like the prophecies said, but Lucifer's death was instantaneous," Castiel said quietly.

Dean took a moment to let it all sink in. He couldn't believe that he and Sam had actually both said yes to Michael and Lucifer.

So much for free will.

"Cas, why?" Dean began. His voice shuddered slightly, and he leaned against the street sign for support.

"Why the fuck did this happen? Why did it have to be us?" he screamed, balling his fists as his entire body trembled with rage.

"Dean, I do not know the reason for everything. Even angels have limited knowledge of the plans of heaven," Castiel replied.

"You angels and demons destroyed us! You zapped me back to this ghost town that used to be my fuckin' childhood home. How cruel can you be? Did you really think that this would help? Did you really think that I wanted to be reminded of how I lost Mom, Dad, and Sam?" Dean yelled. He allowed several hot tears to trail down his dirt-caked face.

Castiel was silent.

"Dean, this is all part of the plan. You are back in Kansas for a reason. It's up to you to decide what you want to do with your future. The fight is over. You're free," he finally added. Dean was still seething with anger.

"_Now_ I'm free, huh? After you duped me and my brother into being angel and demon condoms? After I killed Sam and you erased my mind so I wouldn't have to deal with the reality of the fact that I murdered my little brother? After you brought me back to Lawrence to mock me and shove it all in my face?" Dean exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I thought you were different from the other angels. I guess you're just taking orders like the rest of them, Dean added bitterly.

"Dean, your fate is not decided. I was just sent here to let you know that the war between heaven and hell is finally over. Consider Lawrence your Eden," Castiel said.

"Eden? Should I be watching out for any talking snakes?" Dean asked with a glare.

"He's gone," Castiel said.

"Cas, listen. I'm just tired of being controlled, manipulated, and lied to. I'm also freakin' sick of being teleported across the world, but that's another story. I just want to remember, Cas. I want to see it all, and then I want to wipe it all from my mind completely," Dean admitted.

"You will see it all in due time, Dean. If you like, I can help you through the memories and the horror of it all. However, you aren't ready to see it yet. You still have some growing to do," Castiel said.

"Growing? What the hell am I supposed to do? Haven't I learned enough?" Dean exclaimed.

"No. You have to go out into this town, this country, this world. You have to follow your own path and improve the world in your own way. You have a tremendous responsibility, Dean, but it's up to you to decide how you want to change the world. You don't have to be the vessel for an archangel anymore, Dean. You can be yourself," Castiel answered.

"What am I supposed to do, Cas? Where do I start?" Dean asked.

"You have to start by working on yourself. Once you realize what you can do to help this world, you can begin to usher in a new era for this earth," Castiel said.

"I must go now, Dean. I hear that they're having a family reunion in heaven," Castiel said with a small grin.

"Cas, this still doesn't make any sense. Why is this town deserted? Will you come back down and help me out?" Dean asked as he saw Castiel's outline beginning to fade.

"I'll never be far," Castiel said with a smile as he lifted a hand in goodbye and faded into the glaring afternoon light.

"Where the hell do I go from here?" Dean wondered to himself. He began looking for the familiar white façade of his old childhood home, and he fought back tears as he thought of the years they had spent there.

It was an eternity ago.

Dean's reverie was interrupted when he felt the buzz of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

Curiously, he flipped open the cover. His eyes widened when he saw the caller ID.

"Receiving Call from Sam".

Dean's hand shook slightly as he pressed the answer button and hopefully whispered,

"Sammy?"

The End.

I know it's bizarre, surreal, and somewhat rushed. Sorry for the plotholes! Let me know what you think.


	2. my angels and my demons reappeared

We'll Always Have Kansas : Chapter 2 by asesina

Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns Supernatural.

A/n: Thanks for the reviews. I was going to leave the story as an open-ended oneshot, but I decided to add another chapter and build on the first one.

Let me know what you think!

"_Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent  
But your demons and your angels reappeared  
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought you'd be  
Leavin' me with no place left to go from here  
Leavin' you so many questions all these years"_

-Sheryl Crow, "Always on Your Side"

Dean Winchester swallowed nervously and lifted his cell phone to his ear. He could hear his ragged breathing become shakier with each passing moment, but he could only hear static on the other end of the phone.

He was about to hang up when he heard a tiny, unsure voice croak,

"Dean?"

"Sammy?" Dean shouted. His own voice was unrecognizably desperate and low.

"Dean, y-you're alive?" he heard the voice exclaim. The speaker sounded so much like Sam, but Dean didn't want to get his hopes up. This could be some kind of cruel trick.

"Is this really Sam?" Dean asked. He felt his heart began to beat wildly as he waited for 5 interminable seconds for Sam's reply.

"Yeah, Dean. I just—," he faltered, taking in an audibly shuddering breath.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked frantically. He searched in vain for Sam, looking wildly left and right as he strained to hear Sam's quiet voice.

"Dean, I thought you died," Sam admitted.

"I thought you were dead as a doornail too, Sammy," Dean said. He couldn't hide the unmistakable quaver that snuck into his voice as he said his little brother's name.

"Yeah, well I guess I'm not," Sam said. Dean could hear his breath hitch.

If he didn't know better, he'd think that Sam had been crying.

"Dean, where the hell are you?" Sam asked suddenly. Dean was gripped with an overwhelming desire to find his little brother and make sure that he was whole, safe, and just to see that he was really _Sam_ again.

"Sam, I'm in Lawrence. Where are you?" Dean demanded as he began to run down the quiet cul-de-sac.

"You're not gonna believe me, Dean, but I'm in my old bedroom," Sam said softly. He was about to say something else, but the line suddenly went dead.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean called frantically. He looked at the cell phone display and saw that the call had been dropped.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. Dean raced down the street, frantically searching for the two-story Colonial that they used to call home.

Dean didn't recognize any of the homes on the left side of the street, so he jogged across the road and began looking for it on the other side.

He suddenly spotted a pink Cape Cod that was vaguely familiar to him. An old lady used to live there with her bum of a grandson and 15 cats.

"Mrs. James," he muttered to himself. Images of her house all decorated for Christmas floated through his mind, and Dean felt a pang of nostalgia as he realized how long ago that really was.

He had missed out on so many memories in this town.

Dean was brought back to the present by the urgent _need_ to find Sam and tell him what the hell had just happened.

Sam had sounded distant on the phone, almost broken in a way. He definitely didn't sound like the Anti-Christ.

_Did_ he?

Dean hoped to heaven that it wasn't a trap as he wandered down the sidewalk towards his childhood home.

When he finally arrived at the mailbox, Dean's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the house with a dull sense of wonder as he pondered the surreal nature of it all.

"There's no place like home," he thought with a grimace as he walked down the cracked cement path to the front door. The grass was sickly and yellow in the late afternoon light, and it was covered with dandelions and onion grass.

Dean noticed a distinct lack of cars, bikes, and other normal touches of humanity around the house.

Something was definitely up.

When he reached the front door, Dean put a tentative hand on the door knob. He was surprised to see that the door wasn't locked, and he felt for his .45 just to be safe.

Dean kicked open the front door and held the gun at arm's length as he cautiously made his down the hallway. The house was eerily silent and disturbingly clean. For an abandoned house, it was sorely lacking in both dust and spider webs.

"Anyone home?" Dean called out.

No answer.

Dean slowly made his way up the stairs. He winced every time the old wood creaked underfoot. How the hell could he sneak up on anyone if the house threw a hissy fit every time he put his foot down?

Dean paused in front of the door to Sam's room. He braced himself for a struggle as he pulled his leg back and kicked open the door with a powerful blow.

"Sam?" Dean called. The room appeared to be empty, but something wasn't right.

Dean tried to shake off the creepy feeling that taunted his mind and caused him to shiver involuntarily.

"Dean?"

"Sam?"

Dean whirled around and was stunned to see Sam standing less two meters away from him.

He lifted his gun and aimed it squarely at Sam's chest.

"Why should I trust you?" Dean demanded. He instantly felt guilty when he saw the desperation in Sam's hazel eyes.

This was definitely his brother.

That, or a really convincing shape-shifter.

"Dean, please," Sam begged. He raised his hand in protest and took a step closer to Dean.

"Shoot me if you have to. I don't care, man. I just wanted to see you one last time," Sam said softly.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam said quietly. His voice cracked mid-sentence. Sam hung his head dejectedly and blinked back tears and Dean slowly lowered his gun.

"Sam," Dean said firmly.

Sam looked up and stared directly into his big brother's eyes.

"We've got a lot to talk about, man," Dean said. He put his gun back in its holster and turned to look around the room.

"Hell of a lot of memories in this place, huh?" he said slowly, attempting to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

"Dean," Sam said softly. He crossed the distance between him and Dean and drew his brother into a tight, desperate embrace for a moment. Dean's eyes widened, but he patted Sam awkwardly on the back when he felt his brother's shoulders shake with a muted sob.

"Sam, what was that for?" Dean asked quietly.

"Dean, I thought you died," Sam said. He let a few tears fall from his eyes before hastily wiping them away.

"I screwed up, man," he added, putting a hand on his forehead as he lowered himself into a sitting position.

"You could say that again," Dean mumbled.

"Sam, how much do you remember?" Dean asked suddenly.

"I can still feel it, Dean," Sam said softly.

"What do you mean, Sam?" Dean inquired. He knelt down in front of Sam and looked directly into his eyes.

"I remember killing you," Sam said simply.

"Well, ya did a hell of a job killing me, Sam," Dean said with a smirk.

"No, I remember seeing the flash of a sword and I just dodged it. Someone else was inside of me," Sam admitted.

"Lucifer," Dean spat.

"Yeah. It was all him, Dean. I tried to fight it, but he completely took over. I would've never killed you," he added, looking directly at Dean.

Dean knew that he was telling the truth.

"Do you know about the rest of the battle? A lot of shit happened, man," Dean said slowly. He was cautious with the details. He wasn't sure if Sam had the same instant angel-amnesia that he did.

"Well, I know that I gave in," Sam said dejectedly.

"I did too, man," Dean admitted with some half-hearted commiseration.

"What else do you know?" Sam asked. He shifted his position so that he was sitting Indian-style on the carpet.

"Well, I got a visit form Cas," Dean said.

"What did he want?" Sam asked.

"Well, he basically said that the Apocalypse is over and that I'm supposed to usher in a new era of peace or something," Dean said with a shrug.

"Your deal sounds better than mine," Sam replied in a quiet voice.

"What's going on with you, Sam?" Dean asked in a firm voice. He tried to fight off his desire to return to his role as protective big brother.

"Well, I was visited by an angel too. She said that I had given in to temptation," Sam began.

"Woah, woah. She? Sounds like your deal is better than mine, Sam. I always get harassed by the male demons and male angels. You get all the fine supernatural broads," Dean said with a grin.

"Come on, Dean. She looked like an old lady," Sam said.

"Really? Oh," Dean said apathetically.

"No, she really looked like Scarlett Johansson," Sam admitted.

"Ok, now I'm interested," Dean said. He maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position as he readied himself for Sam's story.

"She said that I wasn't beyond redemption, but there was a catch. She said that I had to be purified before I could enter paradise," he continued, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of the angel's revelation.

"Why did she bring you back to Lawrence, Sam?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know, man," Sam said with a sigh.

"Maybe they wanted us to meet each other. We could've been like Cain and Abel, but we both survived the Apocalypse," Dean mused.

"We're more like Castor and Pollux," Sam replied with a slight grin.

It was the first time Dean had seen him smile in a long time.

"Are you about to get all Greek mythology- geek boy on me?" Dean asked with a smile.

"Yeah, actually. Castor and Pollux were twins. Pollux was immortal, but Castor was mortal. Castor died and Pollux asked Zeus to let him share his own immortality with his twin. Zeus turned them into the Gemini constellation so they would always be together," Sam said softly.

Dean paused to take in the meaning of the myth for a moment.

"Maybe we're like them, or maybe we're like Romulus and Remus," Dean countered, a tiny bit proud that he remembered something from mythology 101.

"I'm surprised you remembered that," Sam said with a grin. Dean shrugged and motioned for Sam to continue his story.

"The angel told me that I was doomed to wander, Dean. She said that I would slowly begin to remember my old life before I became Lucifer's vessel. She also said that I wouldn't be spared any of the details of the battles," Sam said with a wince.

"It's the same thing with me and Cas, Sam. I don't remember everything about becoming Michael. I remember feeling pretty badass, but I don't know why I said yes. I guess that I had had enough of your shit," Dean said with a frown.

He regretted saying that, but he couldn't gloss over the fact that his little brother had been Lucifer's vessel.

The devil.

Holy shit.

Dean smirked and suggested, "maybe they should make t-shirts for us saying something like 'I was an angel's bitch' or 'my ass belongs to the devil'. Maybe something about surviving the Apocalypse and only getting this stupid t-shirt."

"How about a big red, horned 'I'm with stupid' sign with an arrow pointing at yourself," Dean added. Sam frowned impatiently.

"This isn't about novelty t-shirts, Dean. We have to figure out our own paths now, and it sounds like we're supposed to be doing two very different things," Sam said.

"Well, I'm supposed to lead the people of the world to peace, and you've gotta wander the earth. You can travel a lot faster by car," Dean said.

"I don't know, Dean. My journey is more about self-discovery. I'm supposed to do my penance before I can be cleansed. It's almost like purgatory," he reasoned, pausing to think about the implications about what he just said.

"Sam, did any of this angel and devil shit ever make sense?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Sam finally admitted.

"Okay. Here's the deal, then. The angels have told us that we can do whatever we want now, right? But it seems like they're trying to tell us what to do again. I'm supposed to be a hero and you're supposed to be a mopey angst boy. How is that any different than before?" Dean asked.

Sam glared at him.

"Look, Dean. I'm tired. I don't remember anything except for the fact that I almost killed my brother and I likely wiped out half of the earth's population. Even if Lucifer is dead, there has to be anarchy somewhere. What about the demon army? What about the lost souls of the people who were slaughtered during the Apocalypse?" Sam questioned. He furrowed his brow even further until a crease appeared between his eyebrows.

"That's your thinking pose. I recognize that anywhere," Dean said with a grin.

"Just give me a minute, Dean," Sam said in exasperation.

"Sam, I think we should---," Dean began. He stopped short and stared wide-eyed at Sam.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked with annoyance.

"Sammy, don't move," Dean said quietly. He raised his pistol and aimed over Sam's shoulder.

"Die, you freaky bitch!" Dean screamed. He fired a bullet straight through the smoky wraith that floated above Sam's head.

She shrieked in pain, but she continued heading towards Sam.

"You'll pay for killing me, you bastard!" she screamed shrilly as she clawed at Sam's head and tossed him across the room.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

He stared into the wraith's dark, empty eyes and fired another bullet through the female apparition. She turned to Dean in annoyance and grabbed him by his collar.

She threw him at the wall with ease, and Dean smacked the wood with a sickening crack.

Sam's eyes fluttered open just in time to see his brother get thrown against the wall.

"Dean!" he called.

Dean was out cold. A pool of blood was growing rapidly under his head.

"Dean!"

TBC…


	3. all the world's a stage

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 3 by asesina

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW.

A/n: Thanks for the reviews and feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"_All the world's a stage,_

_And all the men and women merely players:_

_They have their exits and their entrances;_

_And one man in his time plays many parts"_

-William Shakespeare, "As You Like It"

Sam crossed the room with two easy strides and fell to his knees at Dean's side.

"Dean," he said softly.

Dean was knocked out.

"Damn," Sam cursed. He looked up at the female phantom, panicking as his eyes flicked to his brother's prone form.

"Stay away from him," Sam spat. The phantom laughed with a cold, shrill cackle as she raised a spindly diaphanous finger at Sam.

"I'm after you," she hissed.

"What did I ever do to you?" Sam demanded. The ghost stared through him with her hollow, bottomless eyes.

"You destroyed my entire family, you evil filth!" she exclaimed. Sam skimmed his mental rolodex of supernatural beings that he had recently killed, but nothing came to mind.

"Just calm down. I don't think I've ever met you," Sam said, attempting to maintain composure as he inhaled deeply and felt for his gun.

"Yes, you did! I lived in Cheyenne with my three sons. You decapitated them all in front of me!" the woman cried.

"I- I'm sorry," Sam replied quietly.

"It wasn't me back there," he added.

"Yes, it was! I know that you were possessed, but you still gave in," she screamed. The phantom floated across the room towards Sam.

He noticed that the smoky tendrils of her gown just brushed the garish carpet.

"You and that weak fool behind you are both going to die," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

"You stay away from my brother," Sam growled, echoing his previous threat.

"And just what are you going to do about it? You're just a human now. I can feel it," the phantom spat. With a swift flick of her wrist, she formed a scythe-shaped shadow from the smoky limb that was once her left arm.

"You can't stop me," she said with a howling laugh as she made a beeline for Dean's unmoving body.

"No!" Sam yelled.

He positioned himself between the phantom and Dean. Sam glanced back at his brother to make sure that he was still unconscious. He dipped his finger in the blood that surrounded Dean's head and whirled around to face the ghost.

"Good bye," Sam said in a quiet voice. He pressed his bloody pointer finger to the spirit's forehead, and he began to mutter an incantation in Latin,

"_Requiscas in pace aeterna_. _Volas, phasma phasmatis_."*

Instantly, the spirit stopped moving. The edges of her smoky form glowed with a soft light, and she screamed as her head fell back and she looked heavenward. The ghost's form became less and less humanlike and finally disappeared into an amorphous mass of grey smoke.

Sam heard an elated sigh as the ghost disappeared and the smoke drifted through the ceiling.

The room fell silent again save for the sound of Sam's heavy breathing.

He looked down at his hand and smeared the blood a little before wiping his hand on his jeans.

Sam's thoughts instantly drifted back to Dean. He rushed to his brother's side and felt for a pulse.

Sam let out a sigh of relief when he felt a faint pulse in his brother's neck.

"Dean, hey," Sam said softly. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Sam," Dean said gruffly. He looked around the room in fear and tried to sit up as Sam held him down.

"Woah, Dean. Slow down," Sam said quietly. Dean protested, but he allowed Sam to help him into a sitting position.

"Where the hell did that freaky ghost bitch go, Sam?" Dean asked.

"She's gone, Dean," Sam said quickly.

"How did you get rid of her?" Dean asked with curiosity.

"I'll tell you later, Dean," Sam said mysteriously as he helped Dean stand.

"You have a bad gash above your ear, Dean," Sam added, inspecting the damage with concern as Dean swatted his hand away.

"It's fine, Sam," Dean said. He swayed slightly on his feet, and Sam was by his side in a instant.

"Well, you're not fine," Sam said matter-of-factly.

"We've got to stitch up your head," Sam said, staring at Dean with his best intimidating John Winchester glare.

"Can't we get some angel mojo to fix us up? How 'bout we summon Cas or something?" Dean asked.

"I think we should stick to what we know, Dean. I've had enough of divine intervention for a while, anyway," Sam said with a smirk.

"Ok, Ok. I think the first aid kit's still in the Impala," Dean said.

"At least, I hope it is. We lost a whole lot during the Apocalypse, man. It would take one huge freakin' band-aid to cover the damage we've done," Dean huffed.

"Dean, let's go," Sam said. He offered Dean a shoulder, but his ever-stoic older brother decided to brave his injury on his own.

When they got outside, Dean was surprised to see that twilight was already falling. The corners of the sky were cobalt blue, and the horizon was still rimmed with a faint white light.

"Where's the Impala?" Sam asked. He looked down the cul-de-sac but couldn't spot the car.

"It's that way, Sam," Dean said. He motioned to the left and stopped for a moment to feel his head.

"Dean," Sam said with concern.

"I'm fine, Sam. Let's just get to the car," Dean said as he stumbled onto the street.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and exhaled slowly.

"We're almost there, Dean," Sam said. He spotted the Impala several yards away and he quickly ran to the car to raid the backseat for the first aid kit.

Sam was surprised to find that it was still intact in its regular spot.

"This car is like the black box of a plane," he marveled as he noted the generally good status of the Impala.

It had survived the freakin' Apocalyspe!

Sam rushed back to Dean's side and helped him over to the Impala.

"Dean, sit in the back seat," Sam commanded. He felt for the flashlight that Dean used to stow under the seat, but he couldn't find the damn thing.

"You got a light, Dean?" Sam asked.

"I have a lighter, I think," Dean said. He felt in his pocket for the Zippo and pulled it out with a flourish.

"Here ya go, Dr. Winchester," Dean said. Sam grabbed the lighter and held it up to Dean's head to inspect the damage.

"Dean, it's not that bad. We should get to a motel or something, though. It's had to see in here," Sam admitted.

"Do you really have to stitch me up, man?" Dean complained. Sam rolled his eyes and helped Dean out of the back seat and into the front passenger seat.

"Yeah, man. We've got to get back to civilization, though. This abandoned village is too much like an M. Night Shyamalan movie for me," Sam said.

He waited for Dean to position himself comfortably in the passenger seat before he climbed into the driver's side.

"You got the keys?"

Dean fumbled through his pockets and threw them over to Sam.

"Take the main road out to the highway," Dean mumbled as he let his head droop and he leaned against the window.

"I know my way around our home town, Dean," Sam said with a sigh.

He turned the key in the ignition and waited for the engine to turn over. Sam almost smiled when he heard the old familiar purr of the Impala's engine.

He glanced over at Dean and felt tears welling in his eyes when he thought of all the times they had taken turns sleeping and driving the Impala.

So much had changed since the Apocalypse, but Sam was eternally grateful for this second chance. He knew that he had given in to Lucifer and killed countless innocent people, but the angel had told him that no one was beyond redemption.

Some people had just sinned more than others.

Sam remembered the ghost that they had encountered in their old house.

She didn't look familiar, but Sam was sure that he killed the woman and her sons while he was possessed by Lucifer. He wanted to destroy all of his memories of that fateful, disgusting week that he spent as Lucifer's vessel, but it would always be a part of him.

Sam hadn't told Dean that the angel had shown him another revelation. He would have to relive the death of every person he ever killed on the earth before he could be purified.

That meant that he would suffer _billions_ of times.

Sam wasn't ready for that kind of torture.

He had yet to experience such a thing, but he definitely did not look forward to it.

Sam pulled onto the main street and searched for signs that lead to I-70. He had missed this old town, but he wanted to get the hell out of Lawrence.

Enough was enough.

Sam pressed down on the gas pedal and sped towards the city limits. He took in a million and one sights as he drove past the old familiar sights at 70 miles an hour.

The ever-darkening sky used to seem foreboding to Sam, but tonight he felt like he could launch himself from the surface of the earth and fall among the stars.

He felt free.

Sam turned on the radio to its lowest setting. He was surprised to hear Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" playing, and he kept the song on.

He would turn it back to Dean's usual AC/DC and Led Zeppelin station if his brother decided to wake up.

Sam turned the car onto I-70 and gunned it.

He was about to merge into the fast lane when he saw a strange, shimmering light ahead of him.

It was almost as if the Impala's headlights were being reflected by an immense and thrown back at the car.

Sam didn't have time to jam on the brakes when he felt the Impala smash into a wall.

Everything went black.

Seconds later, Sam came to.

He was still in the Impala. Sam looked over at Dean and shook his brother's shoulder violently.

"Dean! Wake up!" he called.

Dean groaned and blinked his eyes slowly.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered, lifting a hand to his injured head.

"Dean, we just crashed into… nothing," Sam said. He stepped out of the car and reached a hand towards the smashed fender.

What the hell had they hit?

Curiously, Sam reached a hand into the cool night air. He was shocked to feel a cold, slick surface in front of him.

He couldn't differentiate between this presumed wall and the night sky. It was as if a giant glass was separated the Impala from the rest of I-70.

"What the hell's going on, Sam?" Dean called from the car.

"Dean, just stay inside," Sam said. He felt for his gun and was dismayed to find that it was missing.

"Damn", he muttered.

Sam ran back to the car and looked in at Dean.

"Dean, something weird's going on. You're already hurt. Just stay in here," Sam commanded.

"No way, Sam," Dean said angrily. He stepped out of the car and took a wobbly step towards Sam.

Sam turned to help Dean when he heard a gravelly voice ask,

"Leaving Kansas so soon?"

TBC…

A/n: Let me know what you think!

*The Latin phrase is a poor translation roughly meaning, "rest in eternal peace. Fly, spirit!"

\


	4. in time we'll find this was no surprise

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter Four by asesina

Standard disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW.

A/n: Thanks for the feedback. I hope that you enjoy this chapter! Please leave comments and criticism.

This story is un-betaed (is that even a verb?!), so sorry if there are any typos!

"_Don't be surprised when we hate this tomorrow_

_God knows we tried to find an easier way  
Yeah you and I will be a tough act to follow  
But I know in time we'll find this was no surprise_"

-Daughtry, "No Surprise"

Dean stared in shock as Castiel manifested himself before his eyes.

"Cas?" he said in a quiet, unsure voice.

"Dean, I wasn't sent here to speak to just you this time," Cas said quickly. He shifted his eyes to Sam and regarded him with guarded anger and a hint of disdain.

"Sam, you can't leave Lawrence just yet," Castiel commanded. Sam was still speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel motioned for him to be quiet.

"You should tell Dean how you were able to dispel that spirit before, Sam," Castiel said with a glare.

Sam swallowed hard and looked over at Dean.

"I, uh," he faltered, rubbing the back of his head worriedly as he shot a surreptitious glance at his brother.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean demanded. Castiel folded his arms across his chest and took a step closer to Sam.

"Dean, I- I learned something new from the angel. _My_ angel," he clarified.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?" Dean asked. He stepped towards his brother and winced as pain shot through his temple.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. He remembered Dean's injury and turned to Castiel.

"Castiel, can we talk about this later?" Sam asked. He pointed at his own head to implicitly warn Castiel about Dean's injury, but the angel wouldn't hear any of it.

"I know that he's injured, Sam, but what you did has to be out in the open," Castiel admonished.

Sam hung his head and exhaled sharply.

"Okay, fine. Dean, I used you to get rid of the spirit," Sam admitted.

"Used me? What the hell do you mean? I was out cold," Dean said incredulously.

"I used your blood," Sam added, shifting his eyes away from Dean so that he didn't have to look directly at his brother.

"How did my blood help you dispel the spirit, Sam? What's going on? Cas?" Dean asked angrily. He glanced from Castiel to Sam and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"It's a long story, Dean. When you were Michael's host, you inherited some of the archangel's divine nature. Now that heaven is no longer in a state of anarchy, Michael has returned to his true home. However, he left some of himself in your blood," Castiel explained.

"Well, that just sounds wrong," Dean mused, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Dean. It's actually better for you," Castiel continued.

"Why's that? Sam, did you know about this?" Dean asked.

"No, Dean. I just knew that your blood was the key to helping the spirits of the lost souls who were killed during the Apocalypse," Sam said quietly.

"And why didn't you tell me this, Sam? Did you want me to go all Twilight and give you some of my blood if the ghost bitch didn't knock me out?" Dean asked, hearing his own voice rise with anger as he turned to face his brother.

"No, Dean. I didn't even expect to see a ghost in our old home," Sam said hurriedly. He wanted this to end- all of it. Sam was sick of being put on the spot and forced to justify his every action and belief.

It reminded him of when he was always around Ruby. That was a time he would willingly forget if he could.

"You've got to believe me, Dean. My angel told me that you could help me send spirits home to heaven if used your blood to free them from this earth," Sam said.

Dean wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Castiel had always been on his side, but Sam and the angel rarely saw eye to eye.

Castiel had even more reasons to distrust Sam now after the younger Winchester had given in to Lucifer.

"Look, Cas. I'm sure that bleeding me like a stuck pig would help all these wandering spirits, but there's gotta be another way. We have to be able to send these spirits back to heaven without using Sam's angel mojo tricks," Dean reasoned. He was dismayed when Castiel shook his head firmly.

"Dean, this lesson isn't for you. Sam is the one who holds the key to helping these spirits right now. He is withholding information from you, and you cannot leave Lawrence until you learn how to reap these lost souls," Castiel said with a warning glare.

Dean frowned and looked at Sam. Sam looked and Dean and shrugged in frustration. Sam was about to say something back to Castiel when he saw Dean beginning to sway on his feet.

"Dean!" Sam called. He ran over just in time to prevent his brother from doing a flying headbutt to the asphalt.

"Castiel, you've got to heal Dean and fix the car. It's the least you can do after all this ridiculous Deus ex Machina crap," Sam said coolly.

Castiel nodded with a grimace as he approached the brothers. He placed a hand to Dean's head and willed the wound to disappear.

He turned to the car with a frown and put both hands on the hood of the car.

"This is the first time I've healed something that isn't sentient," he muttered as he whispered a few words and straightened out the twisted bumper and mangled headlights.

"My baby's good as new," Dean said softly. He brushed a hand over his ear and was surprised to feel a distinct lack of blood.

"Uh, thanks, Cas," Dean said suddenly. Castiel nodded curtly and abruptly turned to Sam.

"You—watch out," he said quietly.

"For what?" Sam asked, trying to conceal the fear that crept into his voice.

"You'll have plenty of people after you. Ghosts, wandering spirits, vengeful victims," he said with a steely glare.

"What should I do, Castiel? My angel told me that I should leave Lawrence and never look back," he said.

"You cannot leave yet. Dean needs to learn how to rescue wandering spirits from you. I suppose that will be your parting gift to your brother. After that, Dean will be free to leave Lawrence. You are bound to your fate, Sam," Castiel said firmly.

"What do you mean by parting gift, Cas?" Dean asked. His voice had an edge of panic to it, and Castiel heard his fear.

"You and Sam have separate paths now. You must rescue the souls that Sam destroyed. He must do penance for his sins, but you are free to come and go as you please. We know that you'll do the right thing, Dean, but Sam will not be trustworthy until he learns his lesson," Castiel replied.

"Why do I have to prove myself to you?" Sam asked suddenly.

"It's not just me, Sam. It's the entire heavenly host," Castiel countered with a cold stare.

"Why can't I stay with Dean and help him? I might be able to help the lost spirits, Castiel," Sam said, almost pleading with the angel as he stared into Castiel's sky blue eyes.

"You are a lost spirit yourself, Sam. It's Dean's job to guide them home. Your help would only interfere," Castiel answered.

He turned to Dean one last time and said, "You're free, Dean. You hold the keys of freedom and peace. I know you will do the right thing."

With that, he disappeared into the night.

Dean's eyes widened when his mind registered that the inky darkness in front of him had taken the place of the luminous heavenly messenger.

"Sam, what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked.

Sam laughed bitterly.

"I don't know, Dean. I guess we have to split up again because I'm the fated one once again," Sam said with a frown.

"Sam, we're not gonna split up just because an angel said we have to. We can make our own decisions, remember?" Dean said, hoping to instill Sam with some kind of optimism.

"Yeah, look how well free will worked out for us. Paradise Lost, anyone?" Sam answered. He shifted his weight and stared at the interstate highway in front of them. The glass wall was still in place.

They were trapped in Lawrence.

"Well, I guess I should show you the way I was able to banish that spirit before," Sam said with a sigh.

"Sam, it can wait. We've had a long freakin' week," Dean said with a smile.

"You hungry?" Dean inquired. Sam nodded, and Dean stretched his arms as he walked towards the Impala.

"What do you think about raiding one of these abandoned houses for some post-apocalyptic food?" Dean asked with a grin.

"Uh, sure," Sam said. He sighed wearily and climbed into the passenger side. It was unconscious by now. He was only programmed to head for the diver's seat if Dean was sick or knocked out cold.

In this case, he was neither of the two, so Sam resigned to the fact that he would perpetually be sitting shotgun from now on.

Dean go in the driver's seat and felt for the key. He put it in the ignition and listened to the engine turn over with pride.

"My baby's been touched by an angel," he said with a grin.

"Were you touched by your angel, Sam?" Dean asked slyly as he backed up the Impala and pulled away from I-70.

"No, Dean! I wouldn't consider sleeping with an angel," he said angrily.

"But you didn't have any second thoughts about a demon, huh?" Dean laughed.

"Would you stop bringing that up, Dean? I'm trying to redeem myself here, and talking about that doesn't help me any," Sam said, exasperated.

"Cool down, Sammy. I'm just having some fun," Dean said as he turned the dial on the radio.

He was dismayed when he heard Snow Patrol blaring from the speakers.

"Damn, Sammy, what kind of coffee lounge music did you have on before?" Dean asked in annoyance.

He changed the dial to his favorite station and was pleased to hear Ozzy's "Crazy Train" playing.

"Now that's more like it," Dean laughed as he sped back to the cul-de-sac where it all started.

When they arrived at their childhood home, it was almost 9:00 pm. Dean parked the Impala and cautiously made his way up the front sidewalk.

He kicked open the front door and made his way back to the kitchen.

The house was as silent and sterile as ever. Dean almost tripped over a kitchen chair that was slightly pulled away from the table.

He headed over to the fridge and was surprised to find several bottles of Guinness on the shelves. He also found an untouched ice cream cake and a few scraps of ham in a deli bag from Shop Rite.

The stamp on the meat was surprisingly recent- November 6, 2009. Someone had been camping out here during Sam's week-long apocalyptic reign.

"Sam, want something?" Dean called.

He turned around when Sam didn't answer after several moments.

"Sam?" Dean called worriedly.

He pulled out his Zippo lighter and illuminated the darkness with its weak, flickering light.

Dean was horrified to see Sam standing directly in front of a child-like specter that was reaching for his face.

"Sam, move!" Dean shouted.

Sam was entranced by the spirit. He didn't acknowledge Dean at all.

Dean frantically looked for any kind of weapon in the kitchen. He spotted a small steak knife in the sink and hurriedly grabbed the weapon as he raced towards the ghost.

"I hope this works," Dean muttered to himself as he grabbed Sam's shoulder and pulled him away from the ghost.

"Sam, how the hell did you get rid of that ghost last time?" Dean shouted. Sam's head slumped forward and the diminutive spirit reached out a spindly smoke-finger to touch his forehead.

"Stay away from him, you piece of shit!" Dean screamed. He held the kitchen knife over his hand with a shaky grip, and he plunged the weapon into his forearm with force.

Dean winced as he dipped his finger in his own blood and stared at the ghost in fear.

"Sam, wake up! Help me get rid of this thing!" Dean shouted.

"I'll take your head off just like you did to mine," the ghost-boy hissed as he pulled back his hand and prepared to attack Sam.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he shook his brother's shoulder.

Sam didn't answer.

TBC…


	5. out of the blue and into the black

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 5 by asesina

Standard disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It's the property of Kripke & Co.

A/n: Thanks for the feedback. I hope that you like this chapter! We'll learn a bit more about the post-apocalyptic journey of Sam and Dean.

_  
"Out of the blue and into the black_

_They give you this but you pay for that_

_And once you're gone _

_You can never come back_

_When you're out of the blue_

_And into the black"_

-Neil Young, "Hey Hey, My My"

Dean stared in horror as the ghost boy pierced Sam's forehead with a spindly finger.

"Sam!" he shouted.

"Get away, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean screamed as he tried desperately to dispel the ghost by slicing the kitchen knife through its grey, semi-transparent body.

His attempts were futile. Dean remembered Castiel's words and grimaced as he wiped his hand over his bloody forearm.

"This better work," he muttered as he thrust a bloody hand through the ghost boy's head.

The ghost boy turned to looked at Dean with a flash of annoyance.

"Leave us alone, you bastard," the boy hissed. He pressed all of his fingers to Sam's face and Dean was reminded of the Vulcan mind-meld.

"Get away from my brother! What are you doing to him?" Dean cried as he tried to get between the ghost and Sam yet again.

"Didn't I warn you?" the boy whispered in an ominous tone. He threw Dean to the ground with a simple motion of his hand.

"Stay," he commanded.

Dean tried in vain to move his limbs, but he was completely paralyzed.

He strained to see Sam's face, but the table obscured his vision of his brother.

He could see Sam's legs from under the table, but he didn't appear to be moving at all.

Was Sam in a fucking trance?

This was just great.

Dean could hear the boy whispering to Sam in a cold, sibilant voice. He shuddered as the boy began to chant a repetitive, almost sing-song mantra as he drew Sam further and further away from reality.

"You killed me. You killed me. You killed me," the boy repeated, eyes blazing with fury as he curled his fingers around Sam's neck.

"Can you fell it, hell spawn?" the boy hissed as he throttled Sam.

Dean heard a Sam emit a strangled cry as the ghost boy deprived him of air.

"Sammy!" he shouted.

"How the hell am I supposed to use my blood?" he screamed, trying to distract the ghost and pull Sam from his trance.

"Foolish bastard. Your blood is useless. I've already got a hold of your demon spawn brother," the ghost laughed.

He turned his attention back to Sam as he slipped his cold hands around Sam's neck yet again.

"This is what it felt like when you murdered my brother!" the boy yelled.

Sam let out another pained scream. Dean winced as he heard the boy continue to berate his helpless brother.

"This is what it felt like when you cut off my head!" he shouted.

Sam felt a white-hot pain shoot through his neck. It almost jolted him from his trance, but he was still captive to the ghost boy's torture.

"This is what it felt like when you killed my baby brother, you piece of filth!" cried the ghost boy. Dean could've sworn that the spirit was sobbing, but that was the least of his worries. He had to get to Sam.

Sam was visibly shaking now. Even though Dean couldn't see his brother's face, he could see Sam's body trembling as the ghost shook him repeatedly.

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted.

"I can't!" the ghost replied in a choked voice.

"Haven't you gotten your revenge?" Dean asked. He felt his own heart beating out his chest as he imagined Sam's physical and mental anguish.

"I- I-," the ghost trailed off. He let his hands fall from Sam's neck as he quietly floated backwards.

"I did get my revenge. I searched for Lucifer's vessel for so long, and now I've defeated him," the boy whispered as his smoky outline glowed and his human form began to dissipate.

"I'm coming, mommy," the boy said as he disappeared with a flash of white light.

Dean was mobile in an instant. He flew to Sam's side and frantically felt for a pulse as he put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy, can you hear me?" Dean asked worriedly. He was relieved when he finally felt a faint pulse in Sam's neck.

"D-Dean?" Sam asked weakly. His eyelids fluttered open and he blinked blearily as he looked around the dimly-lit room.

"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked worriedly as he searched for a light switch in the dark kitchen.

He finally found one behind Sam and he promptly flicked it on.

"I- I think I'm fine, Dean. I just don't know what the hell just happened," Sam said as he attempted to sit up. He was promptly stopped with Dean's firm grip on his shoulder, and Sam gladly sat back down.

"Seems like freaky ghost kids and scary spirit bitches are after you," Dean said. Sam shrugged his shoulders and winced at the pain in his neck.

"Sammy, you shouldn't move," Dean said with concern. Sam nodded.

"I think that I killed that kid, too," Sam said quietly.

"Sam, I know that it wasn't you who killed all those people. It was Lucifer," Dean said in a weak attempt to comfort his brother.

"Yeah, but I gave in. I destroyed the world," Sam said as he slumped his shoulders and leaned further back into the wooden chair.

"Yeah, and we can clean up the mess together. Look at you- you're in pretty damn good shape for having been the freakin' devil a few days ago," Dean said with a smile.

Sam didn't return the grin, but he smiled inwardly with appreciation.

Dean could always make things seem like less of a big deal, even if they were the apocalypse.

"Dean?" Sam asked timidly.

"What's up, Sam?" Dean asked. He pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down next to his brother.

"I felt their deaths, Dean," Sam said softly.

"What do you mean?" Dean countered in a curious tone.

"Well, I felt this kind of searing pain when the ghost showed me how I had decapitated him and his family. It felt like I was dying, like I couldn't breathe," Sam said softly.

"Yeah, and we're gonna make sure that it won't happen again," Dean said reassuringly.

"No, I don't think I can avoid it," Sam replied.

"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Well, my angel—," Sam began.

"Your angel? This heavenly broad got a name?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Lydia," Sam answered quietly.

"Sounds like an old cat lady," Dean said with a smirk.

"No, she wasn't. Dean, just listen. She said that I would have to suffer the pain of everyone that I killed while I was Lucifer's vessel. I can't avoid it, Dean. I have to make up for everything," Sam said with resignation.

"Sammy, I didn't know," Dean said quietly.

"There's nothing we can do about it, Dean," Sam replied.

"You're going to let some angel tell you what to do? Haven't we been controlled long enough by heaven and hell?" Dean asked angrily. Something inside of him snapped. There was no way that he was going to let his brother get tortured for an eternity.

It didn't matter what he had done. He was still Dean's little brother.

"Dean, it has to be this way," Sam said with downcast eyes.

"No way, Sam. You're going to teach me how to use my blood to ward off these apocalyptic spirits," he said with a warning glare.

Sam shook his head.

"Dean, I don't know if it'll work. I can't keep using your blood to make up for my wrongdoings," Sam said.

"I thought we were done with the blood foreplay after Ruby, but I guess we'll have to use Michael's blood to get us out of this mess," Dean mused.

"By the way, Sam… I did try to use my blood before," Dean admitted.

"What did you do?" Sam asked in a small voice.

"I cut myself, Sam. I tried to touch the spirit directly, but it didn't work. He was already trying to choke you to death," Dean admitted.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. Dean thought that he saw the glint of a tear in the corner of Sam's eye, but it was probably just the light.

"Dean, you didn't have to do that," Sam said quietly.

"Sammy, that thing was about to kill you," Dean replied matter-of-factly.

He stood up and headed towards the fridge.

"You want anything? A Guinness would hit the spot right about now," Dean said as he pulled open the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer.

"Sure," Sam said.

Dean came back to the table and placed a bottle down in front of Sam. He twisted off the cap and took a long drink from the bottle as he leaned back and put his feet on the chair across from him.

"Sam, you've gotta show me how to ward these things off. I won't let 'em come after you anymore," Dean said suddenly. He stared directly into Sam's eyes, but Sam was avoiding his gaze.

"No, Dean. I won't let you do this again," he said softly.

"Do what?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Sacrifice everything for me! You don't have to injure yourself just so I can avoid punishment that I deserve," Sam replied angrily.

"Sammy, we're in this together. If I have the ability to set these spirits free without forcing you to suffer like that, I'm all for it. It's just a flesh wound," he said with a grin as he glanced down at the gash on his arm.

"Dean, that doesn't look good," Sam said with concern.

"It's fine, Sam," Dean replied. He took another sip of Guinness before turning back to look at Sam again.

"Now tell me how you got rid of that first spirit that attacked us here," Dean prodded, examining Sam's expression as his brother looked away uncomfortably.

"I just took some of your blood and rushed at the spirit. I had to use this Latin incantation, too," Sam added.

"Where'd you learn it?" Dean asked with curiosity.

"Well, Lydia told me that I should say something like _requiscas in pace aeterna_. _Volas, phasma phasmatis_ when I encounter a spirit that I have wronged in the past," Sam answered.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. Sam frowned for a moment as he tried to think of a suitable translation.

"It basically means 'rest in eternal peace. Fly home, spirit'," Sam replied.

"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yeah, Dean. It seems simple enough. I just knew that I had to do something at that moment or you would've—," he paused, thinking about the terrible possibilities.

"Yeah, and I didn't, thanks to you," Dean said with a smile.

"Let's hope we never have to do that again," Sam said. He opened his Guinness and took a drink, surprised to find that the beer was cold and relatively fresh.

"So, where do we go from here, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Wherever we want," Dean answered with a grin.

"It isn't that easy, Dean. I can't just pack up and move on from town to town like you can. I have to spend years hunting down the spirits of the people I wronged. I have to experience each death until they're all free. That could take an eternity, Dean," Sam said softly.

"You don't _have_ to do anything, Sam. You've been listening to too many angels," Dean scoffed.

"Yeah, and maybe you've been listening to too many humans, Dean. Free will isn't all it's cracked up to be. You've bought into the notion that you can escape any fate and do whatever you want. I'm trapped, Dean!" Sam shouted, bringing a hand to his temple to ward off an impending headache.

"OK, Sammy, so you've accepted your fate. That's perfectly fine if you want to suffer for an eternity before you can find any peace. I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone on this road, man. I can help you out," Dean said. He stood up and went to clean out his wound in the sink.

Sam followed suit and stretched out his arms. He put down the Guinness bottle and walked over to Dean.

"I'm leaving, Dean. I don't have time to waste. The sooner I find all of those damn spirits, the better. You don't have to waste your blood, Dean. Find another way to save the world," Sam said quietly.

He turned away from his brother and headed for the front door.

"Sam, don't you walk out that door!" Dean called.

He heard the front door slam and he quickly finished washing the blood off his arm.

"Come on, Sammy," he muttered as he made sure that he had his gun and Guinness with him.

Dean bolted down the hallway and stopped when he saw Sam walking down the sidewalk towards the main road.

"Sam!" he called.

Sam didn't acknowledge him.

Dean ran up to the Impala and jumped into the driver's seat. He fumbled around for his keys and jammed them into the ignition.

He impatiently waited for the engine to turn over as he pulled away from the curb and sped up to follow Sam.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. He pulled the car up next to Sam and motioned for him to get in the car.

"Dean, I already told you. The answer is no," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"At least let me give you a ride," Dean said in an annoyed voice. Sam resigned and climbed in the car. Dean sped away from their house and headed straight for I-70.

He never looked back.

Sam folded his arms and looked out the passenger window.

"We're almost at the highway, you know," Sam said quietly.

"Yep, and you're stayin' in the car," Dean said firmly.

"Where the hell are we going, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know, Sam, but I do know one thing- we're getting the hell out of Lawrence," Dean said as he turned onto I-70 and braced himself for any invisible barriers that might still be trapping them in their hometown.

Dean was pleased to find a distinct lack of glass walls as he sped down the deserted highway into the dark, boundless night.

TBC…

A/n: Let me know what you thought!


	6. the whole world's broke

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter Six by asesina

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I've been a little busy lately . I hope that y'all like this chapter- thanks for the feedback and reviews. I also wanted to preface the upcoming chapters by noting that I attempted to find accurate info online about salting & burning corpses on Supernatural. I just started watching the show a few months ago and I've only seen some of the episodes, but my exposure to the series is far from complete. Let me know if there are any fact checking issues with the supernatural stuff. Thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

"_The whole world's broke and it ain't worth fixing_

_It's time to start all over, make a new beginning_

_There's too much fighting, too little understanding_

_It's time to stop and start all over_

_Make a new beginning"_

-Tracy Chapman, "New Beginning"

Dean noted that I-70 wasn't _completely_ desolate as he swerved into the left lane to avoid an 18-wheeler that was drifting towards him.

"Fucking truck drivers," Dean muttered as he flipped off the driver and pulled back into the middle lane.

He glanced over at Sam and noticed that his brother's head was leaning on the window. Sam's posture was lax and his eyes were most likely shut, but Dean didn't have enough time to study his brother's sleeping habits.

Dean turned his eyes back to the road and squinted into the darkness of the night. It had to be past 7 by now, he thought. Dean stifled a yawn and shook his head to chase away the heavy hands of tiredness that pulled at his consciousness.

It was going to be a long night.

Dean didn't know where the hell he was driving, but he knew that he had to get as far away from Lawrence as possible. That creepy city was one big pile of mangled memories and post-apocalyptic drama that he would prefer to avoid at the moment.

Dean couldn't help but let his thoughts drift back to Castiel's words.

"I'm supposed to save the world again? How the hell am I supposed to clean up the mess that Lucifer and Michael made?" Dean asked himself. He let the thought pass over him as he pressed down hard on the accelerator and sped up to 90 mph.

He looked over at Sam again and felt a pang of regret when he watched his little brother stir in his sleep.

Dean hadn't told Sam that he could remember more and more of that fateful week when the Winchester brothers said yes to Lucifer and Michael and subsequently destroyed the world.

He could feel Michael's angelic blood coursing through his veins, and he winced as he recalled the righteous anger that burned his heart when the archangel in his body first laid eyes on Lucifer.

Dean knew that he was a separate being, but he truly understood Michael's rage. He wanted to avenge all of the fallen angels and countless human lives that Lucifer had destroyed in centuries past.

Dean remembered willingly offering his body to Michael without even blinking an eye when the archangel turned to Sam and brandished his sword.

He didn't turn away as Michael destroyed Lucifer and vanquished the evil that they had feared for so long. Dean didn't see his little brother get stabbed by Michael's heavenly weapon. He saw Lucifer's demise instead, although the king of hell and his brother were interchangeable by that point.

Dean saw a final, glorious image as the archangel raised his sword to the sky and bowed his head in the setting sun. The world was awash with golden light, and Dean knew that the apocalypse was ending with the dying of that long, fateful day.

Dean was forcefully pulled from his reverie when he heard a quiet, panicked cry come from Sam's direction.

"Sam?" Dean called. He glanced over worriedly and noticed that Sam's brow was furrowed. He had broken out in a sweat, and his forehead glistened when they passed under a street light.

"No," Sam said softly.

Dean looked for a place to pull over, but there wasn't enough room on the shoulder on that strip of highway.

"Damn it," Dean muttered as he tried desperately to keep his eyes on the road, flicking his eyes to the right every once in a while to check on Sam.

"I won't do it!" Sam yelled. Dean's heart jumped and he almost swerved into the left lane again.

"Sammy! Wake up, man," Dean yelled, giving Sam a quick shove to his left shoulder.

Sam's head fell forward and he took in a sharp breath as his eyes flew open at last.

"Leave me alone!" Sam screamed. He glanced over at Dean and slowly realized that he was still in the Impala. Sam breathed heavily as he leaned back into his seat and blinked bewilderedly a few times.

"Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked with concern.

Sam opened his mouth to answer Dean, but he paused for a moment.

"Dean, where are we going?" Sam demanded.

"Hey, hey, I asked the first question," Dean said with a frown. Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead as he exhaled and tried to hide the pain in his voice.

"Well, I- I just remembered something, I guess," Sam began.

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, throwing Sam a knowing glare as he increased the car's speed to a steady 95 mph.

"Remembered what?" Dean prodded. Sam frowned nervously and looked down at the floor.

"Um, when I was Lucifer," Sam answered in a small voice. Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He certainly didn't expect Sam to admit that so soon.

"Sammy, if you don't want to talk about it, forget it," Dean said in a softer voice. He felt for the radio dial and turned on the classic rock station.

"Stairway to Heaven" was on.

Dean turned up the volume, but Sam quickly shut it off.

"Dean, I remember why I did it, or at least some of the reasons," Sam continued. Dean continued to focus on the road, but Sam could sense the tension in the Impala.

"I want to tell you, Dean. That wasn't me back there. I can say sorry until my face turns blue, but it won't do us any good. I think that you have to know the reason why I—," Sam said with conviction.

Dean gave Sam a short nod. He knew that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear, but he knew that it would make Sam feel better.

"Dean, I- man, I don't know where to begin. I just felt like I was beyond all fixing," Sam said.

"I just gave in to the inevitability of it. I heard Lucifer's whispers and lies, and they were obviously untrue at first. After a while, they started to make sense," Sam continued.

"Sam, Lucifer should be glad he's dead. If I knew what he had been doing this whole time, I wouldn't have needed Michael to kick his sorry ass," Dean said in a dangerous voice.

Sam's eyes shone with appreciative tears, but he quickly blinked them away.

"Dean, there was nothing you could've done. We were both pushing each other away, and we thought that separation would be better for us," Sam continued.

"I know about that part, Sam. Why were you yelling a little while ago?" Dean asked with curiosity.

"I thought I still had time to say no to Lucifer," Sam said quietly.

Dean regretted asking Sam about his nightmare, but he motioned for Sam to continue.

"Lucifer told me plenty of things about you, Dean. He said that you didn't trust me and that you had already given up on me. He said that if the one person who used to trust me no longer did, I was completely corrupt," Sam said softly.

Dean felt his fist clench as he took a shuddering breath and chewed on his lip.

"Sam, you should've told me that Lucifer was making up all this evil pillow talk," Dean said. His voice was low and intense, and Sam was almost afraid when he heard his brother speak.

"Dean, I thought that I was too far gone. Lucifer also threatened to kill you and everyone else around me if I didn't give in to my true nature," Sam admitted.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Dean longed to end the awkward silence with some more Led Zeppelin or AC/DC, but he knew that Sam still needed this.

"Listen, Sam," Dean began.

Sam's eyes were transfixed on his brother as he awaited Dean's words like they were from heaven itself.

"We've got to stop for the night," Dean said gruffly. Sam's face fell when he realized that Dean wasn't quite ready to talk about their experiences as meat puppets quite yet.

"There's gotta be a place in Lincoln where we can stop for the night," Dean said.

He turned onto US-75 and looked for signs for Lincoln as they sped down the highway.

Dean cracked open his window an inch and breathed in the sweet, cool November air. There was something distinctly refreshing about the sharp, cold autumn air that blew in the window and curled around the previously warm car.

"Dean, shut the window," Sam groaned. He huddled deeper into his jacket and folded his arms to trap in the remaining warmth that his coat could provide.

Dean grumbled as he rolled up the window and turned up the heat until the Impala felt like an oven.

Sam had always liked the warmth.

When they arrived in Lincoln, Nebraska, it was nearly 10:30 pm.

Dean dragged in two duffel bags full of clothes and supplies, and he also managed to half-drag Sam down the hallway to their tiny motel room.

Sam collapsed onto the bed and was out like a light.

Dean wasn't so lucky.

He quickly set out salt lines across the door and windows, and he tucked a glock under his pillow for safe measure.

Dean spent the next several hours pacing the room and turning his weapon on every shadow and cockroach that dared cross his path.

By 2 am, Dean was too exhausted to stand guard anymore.

He silently prayed for protection from any wandering spirits that might be trailing Sam in hopes of getting revenge.

Dean fell asleep at 2:30, and he could've sworn that he heard the rustle of angel wings outside their door as his eyes closed.

Sam woke up at 7 am feeling surprisingly refreshed and awake. He looked over at Dean and frowned at the sunken cheekbones and dark circles under his brother's eyes.

Why hadn't he noticed them before?

Sam slipped out of the bedroom and went downstairs to grab a bagel and some water. He brought up some extra donuts for Dean and laid them on the table by the bed.

He took a quick shower and put on an old hoodie and a faded pair of blue jeans that he found in one of the duffel bags.

Sam sighed as he took a bite of the bagel and glanced over at Dean again.

He didn't know what Dean had planned, but he was sure that it wasn't a scenic tour of the Midwest.

Dean was roused from his slumber by the sound of Sam talking quietly to someone.

Dean's eyes flew open and he saw that Sam wasn't on his cell phone.

He had his hand on the window and was staring absentmindedly into the early morning light.

"I'll do it, Lydia," Sam said quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he strained to hear Sam's conversation.

"I'll send them all home," Sam added quietly.

He turned around and was surprised to see that Dean was already awake.

"Dean! What are you doing up, man?" Sam asked cautiously.

Dean blinked for a moment and pursed his lips.

"Yeah, I couldn't really sleep," he mumbled as he stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Dean, why don't you clean up and have some of those donuts? You look like crap," Sam added with a hint of concern.

Dean frowned at Sam's comment as he shuffled towards the bathroom and blinked his eyes tiredly.

What the hell was Sam up to now?

Dean got ready and emerged from the bathroom 10 minutes later. He dropped into a chair and ate half of a donut before feeling around for his cell phone.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked.

"My phone," Dean said as he pulled open drawers and rifled through his duffel bag.

"Are you in a rush to go somewhere?" Sam prodded as Dean stood up and continued searching.

"Yeah, actually. We're going to Cheyenne," Dean said with a quick grin as he finally found his phone on the bed.

"Wait- what?" Sam asked quickly.

"We're going to Cheyenne, Sam. Simple as that. We've got a lot of work to do, and I'd bet that Cheyenne is crawling with spirits if we had our big showdown there," Dean replied.

"We can't treat this like a regular salt and burn, Dean. This is the apocalypse! I killed all of those people," Sam added softly.

"Doesn't matter. We're torching those corpses before the spirits can cause any mayhem freak out any of the locals," Dean said.

"Wait, Dean. What part of my redemption story didn't you understand? I have to banish those spirits with physical contact, not by getting rid of their bodies," Sam said, hearing a hint of anger rising into his voice.

"And what, you want to let all of them give you some kind of freaky vision and phantom scarring? Forget it, Sam," Dean said firmly.

"This is my only chance, Dean," Sam said bitterly.

"What the hell do you mean, Sammy?" Dean demanded.

"I gave in before, Dean. I thought it was inevitable that I was going to become evil, to be Lucifer's vessel. I was, but—we both survived. It was a miracle, Dean. Aren't you thankful for second chances?" Sam said. His voice shook slightly with emotion, but Dean stared him directly in the eyes and shook his head.

"Sam, you did give in. You did screw up. Maybe I did too. I just know that you're back with me and I'm not gonna lose you to some destiny-fulfilling bullshit again. You're destroying yourself, Sam! You don't have to be a martyr," Dean said with force.

Sam looked away for a moment.

When he turned back to Dean, a few tears were visible in the corners of his hazel eyes.

"Oh, yeah? Then how am I supposed to be good enough? How will I get into heaven or the elysian fields or whatever else is up there, Dean? Lydia told me that I have to wander the earth, Dean. I have to experience pain. I have to be restless. I won't be good enough until I have set them all free," Sam said, letting his voice fall to just above a whisper.

"Sam, you're giving in! Don't listen to that shit, man. We can work together to set these souls free, but we can't do it if you're going to lie back and let these angels and spirits walk all over you!" Dean shouted, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder as he stared his brother directly in the eyes.

"Dean, maybe reuniting wasn't such a good idea. I can't disobey the angel," Sam said quietly.

Dean's mouth fell open but no words escaped.

He heaved a sigh and turned away from Sam as he began to pack up their things.

"Sam, I'm going to ask you to come with me one last time. If you want to help restore peace to this earth, just come with me and try this out. If it doesn't work, you can travel the world for an eternity and whip yourself every time you remember one of your sins," Dean said firmly.

Sam did not speak for the rest of the morning, but he reluctantly climbed into the Impala as he and Dean began the 6 ½ hour journey to Cheyenne.

Sam tried his best to ignore the nagging voice in his head that seemed to scream,

"You're doing it the wrong way, Sam! You'll pay for this!"

TBC…

A/n: let me know what you think!


	7. blood in the streets up to my ankles

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 7 by asesina

A/n: Things pick up in this chapter as Sam and Dean head to the site of their final battle: Cheyenne, WY. Who or what will they find there?

Please let me know if anything about the ghost-hunting or angels is untrue to the show and I will fix it. I am a relatively new fan so I want to make sure that the story is true to the series! Thanks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Eric Kripke and the CW do.

Enjoy!

* * *

"_There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles  
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee  
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago  
Blood on the rise, it's following me"_

-The Doors, "Peace Frog"

It was just past 8:30 am when Dean pulled onto I-80 W and started heading towards Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dean exhaled shakily and turned on the radio to try to find a decent station. Much to his dismay, most of the songs were twangy bluegrass or synthesizer pop from the 80s. He sighed in frustration and pushed the radio dial to its limit, hoping against all odds that the would find something decent for the long drive ahead of them.

Dean settled for "My Generation" by the Who. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands on the wheel as he accelerated up to 80 miles an hour.

His concentration was shattered when a soft voice came from the passenger's side of the car.

"Dean, do you really think that you should be driving?" Sam asked suddenly.

Dean almost jumped. He had been so intent on heading to Cheyenne that he had completely forgotten about his oft-silent brother in the passenger's seat.

"Huh? I'm fine, Sam," Dean said through gritted teeth. Sam noticed the perspiration that was beginning to bead on Dean's pale forehead.

"You look terrible, Dean. Did you even sleep last night?" he asked with concern.

"I slept enough," Dean said with a frown. He swerved into the left lane and gunned it as he zoomed past the Passat that used to be in front of them.

"Learn to drive, jackass!" Dean shouted as he switched back into the center lane and glanced up at the street sign.

They were just crossing into Wyoming, he noted.

Only about 400 miles to go.

"Sammy, I need you to punch some coordinates into the cellphone's GPS," Dean instructed. He motioned towards the black phone that sparkled like camouflaged obsidian between the dark seats of the Impala.

"Put in Cheyenne as the destination," Dean added hurriedly.

Sam noted a distinct tension in his voice, and it worried him.

Sam pursed his lips and grabbed the phone. He quickly keyed in the coordinates and waited for the arrow to appear on the screen.

"Dean, there's no way that you're driving for 6 hours straight," he said softly.

"I've gotta, Sam. We have to start pickin' off these spirits one by one," Dean said determinedly as he sped down the highway.

Even though Dean's antics were consistently worrying, Sam couldn't help but be impressed by his brother's determination. Dean really wanted to help him down this road, but Sam wasn't sure whose plan was ideal at this point.

"Dean, we can't just pick up where we left off," Sam replied.

"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean asked, shooting Sam a quick look as he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're just rushing into this with your guns blazing. You're not really considering what we've—_I've_ done," Sam began.

"Sammy, I thought we already went through this. I know that we pretty much ended the world, but we've got to make it right. If the angels and demons shit didn't work out, why not go back to what we're used to?" he questioned, turning down the radio a bit so he could hear Sam's reply.

"Dean, you know what I mean. I've changed. You pretty much saved the world. I was the one who destroyed it," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, and for whatever reason, we both survived. We've gotta work together to clean it up, Sam," Dean said assuredly.

"That's not the point, Dean. I made a promise to Lydia, and I don't intend to break it once we get there," Sam replied.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked out the window.

If they weren't speeding past the surrounding area at 80 miles an hour, he might have enjoyed looking at the rolling, grassy flatlands and the impossibly blue Midwestern sky.

They had seen so much of America, but so much of it was a blur.

Sam had a feeling that they would never settle down.

Dean had not responded in a few minutes. Sam looked back over at his brother and saw that Dean's mouth was set in a firm line. His eyes were steely and unblinking, and something about his expression troubled Sam deeply.

"No," Dean said simply.

"What?" Sam asked, startled by Dean's sudden reply.

"I won't lose you to hell or heaven again, Sammy," Dean said in a firm voice.

"Dean, this is my mission now. I have to suffer for what I've done," Sam said resignedly.

He dreaded the punishment that awaited him, but he continually told himself that this _was_ the right path, that this _was_ what he had to do.

Sam just wished that he could convince Dean to see his point of view.

"Sam, I remember," Dean began coldly.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam probed gently.

"I remember when you said yes, and I remember when I did," he said mysteriously.

Sam dreaded what he was about to hear. He exhaled through his nose and drew in a sharp breath right after.

"I'm ready, Dean. You can tell me," Sam said cautiously.

Dean cleared his throat and swallowed hard as he searched for the words to describe the heartache that had occurred only days before.

"Well, Sam, you left me in Omaha without a word. You didn't even look back," Dean said bitterly. Sam could hear the vitriol in his voice, and his heart broke as he too began to remember that fateful day.

"You started out slow, Sam. I tracked you for a few days. At first, it was small stuff. You called up a small army of demons and used a few guys as meatsuits to test your abilities. After that, you got confident really quickly," Dean said ominously. He avoided Sam's gaze.

"You- sorry, Lucifer, was one sick bastard," Dean recalled.

"He made you decapitate children in front of their parents and husbands in front of their wives," Dean said.

Sam's eyes widened as bits and pieces of his reign as Lucifer floated to his conscious mind.

"There was no real pattern to the destruction. Lucifer wanted to reclaim the earth city by city, state by state. Millions of people were annihilated, and even more became meatsuits for his demon army. The worst part was when he used one guy's meatsuit to attack his own family. It was some sick shit," Dean said, shivering slightly as he recalled the evil that seemed to drip from Sam's crooked grin when he was Lucifer's host.

"I gave into Michael after a few days, Sam. I knew that you weren't in there anymore, or at least I thought you weren't. I had to, man. I couldn't let the world end. I knew that no one else was going to step in, especially after seeing how helpful the angels have been in the past," Dean said, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Dean, I- I don't know what to say," Sam said quietly. His eyes were downcast and his entire posture was slumped, broken…

Defeated.

"Sammy, I'm sorry you had to hear all of that, but it was just eating away at me, man. I don't want to see you go through any more of that shit, and I'm not letting you give into this angel that you keep talking about," Dean said dangerously. He shifted his attention back to the road and gave into the mesmerizing blur of asphalt and prairie as they headed towards their destination.

Sam began to nod off by noon. He was out like a light for the next few hours as Dean struggled to stay awake as they approached Cheyenne.

By 3:50 pm, they were just a few miles from the city limits. The cheery "Welcome to Cheyenne" roadsign was both a boon and a curse for Dean's eyes.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of Day's Inn at 4:15 pm. He reached over and shook Sam's shoulder gently.

"Sam, wake up," Dean said loudly.

"We're here," he said in a voice that barely concealed his fear.

Sam blinked the sleep from his eyes as he opened his car door and swung his legs over the side of the cramped seat.

"Where are we supposed to begin?" Sam asked apprehensively as Dean began to rummage through the back seat for the rock salt gun and their other supplies.

"I think the motel is a good start," Dean said as he procured the vial of holy water and the EMF scanner from the junkpile of items in the Impala's back seat.

"We really have to clean the Impala," Sam muttered as he also grabbed a rock salt gun and a glock.

"What do you want? It was the freakin' apocalypse, Sam. I had to jam shit in my backseat while I was chasing Lucifer from town to town," Dean said with a smirk as he locked up the car and stowed the keys in his pocket.

"Yeah, whatever you say," Sam said as they headed towards the reception desk of them motel.

Dean approached the desk first. He was surprised to see that no one was there, and he impatiently tapped the bell for service.

When no one showed up after a minute, Dean stalked down the hallway and began to knock on the doors.

"Anyone in here?" he called loudly.

The motel was eerily calm. The cold November wind whistled in through the open door, but the place was desolate. Dean pulled the EMF meter from his pocket and was shocked to see the needle twisting and writhing like they were lost in the Bermuda Triangle.

"Sam, this place is pretty fuckin' haunted," Dean said quietly.

Sam nodded matter-of-factly and tightened his grip on the rock salt gun.

"I think that's the reason why," Sam said suddenly.

He pointed to a large, yawning hole at the end of the hallway. It looked like the entire wall had been smashed with a wrecking ball, and the wood was singed around the edges of the splintered hole.

"Lucifer must've hit up this place," Dean said quietly.

"Look outside, Dean," Sam replied in a thin voice.

Dean's eyes widened as he looked beyond the walls of the motel and surveyed the fate that had befallen Cheyenne.

The streets were strewn with bodies and the sidewalks were missing chunks of asphalt. Entire building faces were scorched or destroyed, and overturned cars were everywhere.

And, worst of all, the rotting carcasses of the dead had formed a putrid, murky river of blood and human remains that settled in the cracks of the sidewalk and the sewers that lined the main street.

"It's all gone," Sam breathed. He headed towards the front door of the motel.

"Sam, wait!" Dean called. He chased his brother down the corridor, but Sam was already at the Impala.

"Dean, I can't stand this," Sam said in a tiny voice. He was pale and visibly shaking, and Dean thought that his skin had almost taken on a greenish tinge.

"Sammy, it's okay. You stay here for now," Dean instructed.

He flipped open the trunk and pulled out a gallon of gasoline.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Sam cried incredulously.

"I see a city full of dead, stinking bodies that could use a good cremation," Dean said with a grin.

"Dean, I killed them. I'm supposed to commune with all of them before we can send them off," Sam said breathlessly.

"Sam, let's just try this, okay? We don't have to do this for all of the bodies, but there's no way what I'm letting some Dawn of the Dead-style fuglies come after you," Dean said firmly.

"Now get the salt," Dean added as he motioned for Sam to follow him down the road towards city hall.

"This place smells like a bitch," Dean commented as he began to salt the pile of corpses nearest to his feet.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. Dean looked up and saw the tears shining in Sam's eyes.

"Don't get all chick flick on me now," Dean said with a groan. He doused the first pile of bodies with gasoline as he felt for a pack of matches that he usually carried in his front pocket.

"Dean, I remember this guy," Sam said. He looked down at the unmoving face in front of him and sniffed a little as he fought back the impending tears that threatened to fall at any second.

"Yeah, and you're helping his spirit by doing this," Dean replied.

He dropped a match unceremoniously on the man's head and stepped away as the body began to blaze brightly in the dimming light.

"We won't get all of this done by nightfall, Sammy. We'd need a flamethrower or maybe the tower from the Wicker Man or something," Dean mused as he moved on to the next body.

Sam's eyes drifted across the carnage in front of him. He was overcome with a wave of nausea as he realized that there were at least 120 bodies in the main thoroughfare of the city alone.

This would take days to clean up.

Sam stepped away from the refuse and vomited audibly into a nearby bush. Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned to look at Sam.

"You all right, Sammy? You don't have to watch this if you don't want to," he called over the quiet crackling of the flames.

"Dean, something just doesn't feel right about this," Sam yelled back.

"I know, Sam. It's freakin' disgusting," he said with a grimace as he stepped over a body and doused another corpse with salt and gasoline.

"No, I mean that I have this foreboding sense of doom that I can't shake off, Dean," Sam admitted. His rested his hand on the gun holster at his hip as he turned around cautiously to face an unknown foe.

"Dean, we should get back to the motel," Sam said nervously.

Dean snorted and prepared to burn another body.

"You worry too much, Sammy! We still have about 10 minutes of daylight. That's at least 10 more bodies!" Dean yelled.

"He seems so confident," Sam thought as he glanced at his watch and looked over at Dean.

Dean was leaning over a body to light another match when a blindingly bright light appeared from the right corner of Sam's vision.

"Dean," Sam called out in warning.

In an instant, the light shot directly at Dean, who was promptly thrown through the air and onto a splintered wooden bench.

"Dean!" Sam yelled again as he rushed to his brother's side. He helped up the bewildered older Winchester as they both looked up in fear as the light approached them again.

"Well, Sam, I never expected you to take the easy way out," whispered a soft, musical voice that reverberated through the increasingly claustrophobic town square.

"Lydia," Sam said quietly.

Dean watched in shock as the white light dimmed and a tall, attractive blonde stepped forward from the shadows.

Two brilliantly bright wings sprouted from her back before fading into the twilight with the rest of her heavenly aura.

"You're doing this the wrong way, Sam," Lydia spat angrily as she held up a hand and immobilized Sam and Dean with a flick of her wrist.

"Let me show you how," she said in a disturbingly mellifluous voice as she beckoned towards an unseen accomplice in the darkness.

TBC…

A/n: Let me know what you thought!


	8. bend your arms to look like wings

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 8  by asesina

A/n: Sorry for the delay! I was a bit busy recently. I have decided that this story will most likely end up being 10 chapters long.** Also, I just wanted to issue a warning: the upcoming chapters will get darker and may have character death.**

Thank you for the feedback! I hope you enjoy this installment.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. CW and Erick Kripke are the luck ones :(

* * *

"_As the sun sets on battlefields  
I hope you can save me  
I hope you can save our wounded hearts"_

-"Bend Your Arms to Look Like Wings", Funeral for a Friend

Sam stared in fear as two shadowy figures drifted towards him across the bloody pavement. They disappeared and reappeared in a jarring, perforated path that was so characteristic of bitterly vengeful spirits.

The two spirits joined hands and turned their wretched, angry faces to Sam.

The spirits seemed to devour Sam with a glare as they feasted on his fear with a dark, eyeless gaze.

Sam screwed his eyes shut and prepared for the attack. Dean threw a glance at Lydia and was shocked to see a twisted smile on the angel's beautiful face.

"Sammy, wake up!" Dean yelled. He desperately tried to reach his brother, but he was still frozen in place by Lydia's invisible grip.

"Quit squirming," she whispered with a smirk.

"Let 'im go, you crazy bitch!" Dean shouted. He stared in horror as the spirits trailed their translucent, bony fingers over every inch of his body.

"So, this is the bastard himself," hissed one of the ghosts. It was the smaller of the two, and the voice was decidedly feminine. Dean shivered when he heard the sibilant voice slice through the dusky air.

"Don't touch him!" Dean yelled, struggling fruitlessly against the angelic power that fastened him to the bloody earth.

"Oh, but then it isn't fun," laughed the taller spirit as he cupped Sam's chin in his hands and drove a formless shadow-finger through Sam's throat.

Sam gurgled and choked on his own blood as the spirit made a jagged sawing motion around Sam's neck. Dean's eyes were transfixed on the thin red trail that formed as the spirit dragged a finger around Sam's neck. When he reached the base of Sam's skull, the spirit motioned towards his female accomplice and directed her to place her hands where he had left off.

"Let's see how you like your own patented brain removal surgery," she spat as she plunged her hands into Sam's skull.

Sam cried out in agony as his vision swam and his head began to pound. It felt like someone was pouring hot wax between his skull and his blood-brain barrier.

Sam chewed on his lip and avoided letting out a scream as the female spirit prodded his brain like a novice musician violently fingers a keyboard.

"Not so fun now is it, Lucifer?" she whispered as she made a fist inside his skull and pounded on his temporal lobe.

"Let me have a turn," complained the male spirit.

The female spirit shot him an annoyed look as she pulled her fingers from Sam's skull and trailed a forefinger down his cheek.

"It's a shame Lucifer had to use such an innocent-looking vessel. I guess that was part of the appeal," she said with a twisted grin as the male spirit began to apply pressure to Sam's spine.

Dean could only stare in horror as the spirits paralyzed and tortured Sam by teasing and baiting his central nervous system. Dean felt as helpless as he did when he held Sam's body in Cold Oak, or when he watched Sam pull away from the motel forever…

_He had to stop this._

"Enough!" Dean yelled.

The spirits paused to look at him, but they continued plucking Sam's nerves, sending whispers of pain down his spine to his numbed sensory receptors.

"It will never end, Dean," Lydia said triumphantly.

"Cut the shit or I swear, I'll--," Dean began, pausing to gather his thoughts as he stared at Lydia in disgust.

"You'll what? You can't stop any of this. Sam gave in. Sam is evil," Lydia stated matter-of-factly. She folded her arms across her chest and glared sternly at Dean.

"Sam was evil, but he's better now. Now he's the brother I was missing for so long," Dean said softly, looking at Sam sadly as the spirits' attack was slowly beginning to dissipate.

"Sam became Lucifer. He has a chance to make up for it. This is it, and you're not going to interfere," Lydia said angrily as she moved closer to Sam and Dean.

"Watch me," Dean said, narrowing his eyes as he slowly began to stand to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked suddenly. Her eyes widened when she saw that her powers were no longer affecting Dean.

"I'm taking him back," Dean said firmly as he frantically began searching his coat pockets for a knife.

"Dean, your attacks will be fruitless," Lydia said, trying to conceal the panic that was edging into her voice.

Dean finally found the Swiss army knife that he was looking for.

He cut a deep gash in his forearm and smeared some blood onto his right pointer finger and thumb.

"Watch and learn, bitch," Dean said with a smirk. He raced towards Sam and put a hand to his brother's throat to feel for a pulse.

The spirits flicked and blinked in the dim light, but they were still hurting Sam. Their attacks were barely more than tickles at the moment, but they were still a pain in the ass.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" Dean muttered to himself.

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Dean through the slits of eyelids.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"Sammy," Dean began. Sam shook his head.

"Let them remember, Dean," Sam said quietly. Dean shook his head fervently and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"They've done enough damage. I can't watch any more," Dean said urgently.

Sam heaved a sigh and shook his head.

The spirits had almost completely evaporated. They flicked at Sam's heavy, tired legs with sharp little ghost hands, but they barely hurt Sam at all.

"We're-," whispered one of the spirits.

"Free," replied the other one as they disappeared into the night with an otherworldly howl.

Sam shivered and gradually opened his eyes all the way. He grinned weakly at Dean and shifted his eyes to Lydia.

"Lydia," he said quietly.

"Sam, save your strength. I have more victims for you," she said in a musical voice that belied her true intent.

"Like hell you do," Dean muttered as he prepared to attack any wandering spirits that would dare to hurt his little brother.

"Come forth!" Lydia shouted. Her voice was booming and deep, more like the cry of Zeus or Thor than the lilting whisper of an angel.

"Let's get out of here," Dean said to Sam hurriedly.

He tried to pull his brother to his feet, but Sam was still cemented to the ground.

"You two aren't going anywhere," Lydia said with a laugh as she pointed towards a small band of ghosts that were headed towards Sam.

The spirits all carried weapons formed from their own smoky arms and legs. Some had axes and scythes, and one had even fashioned a gun with his left arm.

"You'll pay for this, Lucifer!" shouted one of the spirits as they pinned Sam to the earth and began to chop and slice at his body with their spirit weapons.

Sam cried out in pain as a male spirit dragged an axe across his exposed abdomen.

"Lydia!" Sam shouted in agony. Lydia ignored Sam and turned her gaze heavenward.

"Sammy! You've gotta stop this!" Dean shouted.

Sam stared up at Dean with fear in his eyes. He reached out a trembling hand to his brother, but one of the spirits quickly swatted it away.

"Take it like a man, Lucifer," growled the spirit. He throttled Sam and slammed his head against the pavement.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. He chewed his lower lip in anger as he tried to think of a way to dispel the spirits.

He didn't have much time to think. Sam was being tortured and wounded by the spirits as they projected their memories and anguish on him. His body writhed in pain as one of the spirits drove a sharp hand through his abdomen.

"This is how you killed me, you bastard," she hissed.

Sam gagged on the blood and bile that rose to his mouth. A small trail of blood escaped the corner of his lips, and something about that sight set Dean over the edge.

Dean took a deep breath and rushed at the spirits with the only weapon he could find: a pocket knife. He drove it wildly through the spirits but they all remained stationary, bodies completely impervious to Dean's desperate attack.

"Shit!" Dean growled. He turned an anxious gaze down at Sam, who was attempting to give Dean a wordless warning.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"I can't get 'em all off, Sam. You have to tell me that spell," he said quietly.

He prayed that Lydia wouldn't hear their conversation, but he wasn't sure if God would side with him over an angel.

"N-no, Dean," Sam said weakly.

"You have to, Sam. I know that Lydia's telling you to do this, but you can't! It's killing you," Dean implored, throwing a pleading glance at Sam.

"I-it's," Sam began.

"Yeah, Sammy? I just need to remember how to say it," Dean said softly. He watched helplessly as the spirits continued to pummel and torture his little brother.

"It's _requiscas in pace aeterna, _and then_ volas, phasma phasmatis_," Sam said quietly. He gagged on the coppery blood that was beginning to fill his mouth.

"Here goes nothing," Dean muttered. He dug his knife even further into the rapidly-congealing gash on his forearm. Dean smeared some of his own blood on his fingers and raised a hand as he murmured the incantation,

"_Requiscas in pace aeterna. Volas, phasma phasmatis_."

He sliced his bloody hand through the wall of spirits that separated him from his little brother. They shrieked in agony and blazed brightly for an instant before disappearing one by one.

Dean grew more and more exhausted as he came into contact with each spirit. By the time he reached the spirit by Sam's head, he could barely stand.

"Almost done, Sammy," Dean whispered with a smile.

He turned and waved his hand through the spirit's smoky form. He disappeared with a scream and shot heavenward in a beam of blinding white light.

"What are you doing?!" came an enraged, incredulous voice.

Dean whirled around to see Lydia flying towards him at lightning speed. She raised a fist and prepared to strike Dean, but someone caught her hand.

"Leave them alone," said a stern, gruff voice.

Dean's eyes widened when he saw Castiel standing behind Lydia.

"Castiel?" Lydia asked in a frightened voice.

"Get away from them," Castiel commanded.

Lydia frowned and stood resolutely between Castiel and the Winchesters.

"Now," Castiel said firmly.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at her fellow angel and folded her arms across her chest as she evaporated into the night air.

Dean took a few ragged breaths and collapsed to his knees as he inhaled and exhaled painfully.

"Cas," Dean said quietly.

"Dean, what happened?" Castiel asked worriedly.

"I- Sammy," Dean began. He winced in pain and screwed his eyes shut as he clutched at his wounded arm.

"How's Sam?" Dean asked. He tried to turn around to look at his brother, but he could barely move.

"I'll check on him, Dean. Don't move," Castiel commanded.

He approached Sam and put a cautious hand on his shoulder.

"Sam," Castiel said quietly.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a tiny voice.

Castiel's eyes widened when he saw the damage that Sam had incurred. Sam's face and neck were a roadmap of intersecting red scratches and wounds. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his visage was particularly drawn and pale.

"Get up, Sam," Castiel said gruffly. He offered Sam a hand, and Sam cautiously reached out and allowed the angel to help him stand up.

"I- I saw their deaths," Sam said quietly. He blinked back tears as he remembered the faces of his victims as they took their last breath.

"Are you prepared to experience that a million times over?" Castiel asked Sam.

Sam stared dazedly into the night. He shivered in the thin, cold air and slowly shook his head.

"No, I'm not," he admitted.

"Why did the visions end so soon?" he asked suddenly.

"Dean must have interfered," Castiel said. He motioned towards Dean's prone form.

Sam's eyes widened in fear. He ran to his brother's side and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean?" he asked quietly.

Dean's face was a mask of pain. His chest heaved with painful, shallow breaths, and his eyes were closed.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Sam asked, gently shaking his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy," Dean croaked. He tried to open his eyes, but another wave of pain overtook his body as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Dean, don't move," Sam pleaded. He blinked back tears as he put a hand on Dean's face and tried to wipe away some of the blood.

"Castiel, what the hell happened to Dean? He's lost some of Michael's blood before, but this never happened," Sam said worriedly.

"He probably has only a limited amount of Michael's blood. There's no telling what will happen if he loses any more," Castiel said in a low voice. He surveyed the damage to Dean's body and motioned for Sam to stand up.

"We should get him to safety, Sam. Lydia might come back soon," Castiel instructed. He made a circular motion with his hand and drew a circle of light around them.

"Hold on," Castiel said. The bloody town square of Cheyenne faded as they were instantly transported to the motel where they had been staying earlier.

When they made it back to the motel room, Dean was still in bad condition. He was growing weaker by the moment, and Sam couldn't bear to watch his brother suffer because of him.

"This is all my fault, Castiel," Sam whispered.

"Sam, you did make a mistake, but Lydia is also to blame," Castiel replied. He placed a hand on Dean's forearm and closed the yawning wound.

"Sam, Dean might not survive another attack like that. If he runs out of Michael's blood, he could die," Castiel admitted.

Sam's eyes widened in horror as he turned to look at his unconscious brother.

"Dean, you can't keep doing this for me," Sam said tearfully as he sat on the bed by Dean and buried his face in his hands.

"Sam, you know that Dean will always make sacrifices for you, even if you willingly became Lucifer's vessel," Castiel said.

"What am I supposed to do, Castiel?" Sam asked dejectedly. He turned to the angel, but Castiel avoided his stare.

"You can find another way to dispel the spirits that doesn't involve injuring yourself or your brother," Castiel said mysteriously.

"What do you mean? Shouldn't I make amends for what I did?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Yes, but you are just propagating the cycle of suffering," Castiel said with a frown.

"How can you say that? Aren't you on heaven's side?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yes, but Lydia is doing this to destroy you. She's out for revenge," Castiel said.

TBC…


	9. everybody's had to fight to be free

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter Nine by asesina

Disclaimer: Kripke owns Supernatural.

A/n: sorry for the long delay. I had a small bout of writer's block for a while. I hope you like this chapter!

I am planning on making the story about 10 chapters with the possibility of an epilogue as well.

Summary: The apocalypse is over, but Sam and Dean still have work to do. The world is a desolate wasteland full of wandering spirits who all want to take their revenge on Sam. Sam is ready to accept his punishment, but Dean isn't so sure. Throw some vengeful angels into the mix and you can see why Sam and Dean are tired of being caught between heaven and hell!

**Warning: The following chapters will include character death, so please do not read if you do not like this kind of plot!**

* * *

"_It don't make no difference to me, baby_

_Everybody's had to fight to be free…"_

-Refugee, Tom Petty

Dean's eyelids fluttered open slowly. It took a while for his eyes to grow adjusted to the dim light of the dingy motel room as the electric orange glow assaulted his retinas.

"W-what time is it?" he sputtered weakly, tasting the dull, coppery tang of blood in his mouth.

"Dean," Sam whispered worriedly. He rushed over to his brother's side and peered into Dean's green eyes with concern.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked quietly.

"I- I-," Dean gagged mid-sentence and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

_Shit- more blood_.

"'m fine, Sammy," Dean managed. He tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but Sam put a firm hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"Stay in bed, Dean. You need to rest. You almost-," he faltered, pausing to take a breath.

"You almost _died_, Dean, and it's all my fault," Sam exclaimed, gazing bitterly into the distance as he sat on the bed with a quiet thud.

"Sam, I just couldn't protect you. How do you think I feel?" Dean asked weakly, pausing to let out a rattling, wet cough that shook his entire body.

"I don't want to play the blame game, Dean. I just… I think that this has to end right now. You can't keep doing this," Sam said angrily, eyes pleading.

"Just watch me," Dean said resolutely as he exhaled slowly and started at the motel's tiled ceiling.

"Where _is_ Cas, anyway?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam pointed at the door and waited for Castiel to materialize from the shadowy corner of the room.

"Right here. I've been keeping watch," Castiel said in a distant voice.

"Who are we hiding from, again?" Dean asked, grunting in pain as he rolled over onto his bruised side.

"Lydia," Castiel said coolly.

"Can't you stop that crazy bitch, Cas?" Dean asked, staring over at the angel.

"I'm not sure. She is considerably strong, but I was able to fend her off briefly. I'm not sure if I would be able to banish her from her vessel with any success," Castiel admitted. He absentmindedly poked at the wall of the motel as if to test the strength of the building's structure, but something caught Dean's eye.

"Did the wall just- sparkle?" Dean asked incredulously. Castiel grinned briefly and nodded.

"I've managed to build an aura around the room. It should hide us from Lydia for a few hours, but it might only last until daybreak," he explained, waving a hand in front of the wall to demonstrate the qualities of the web he had woven around the room.

The walls shone like dull gold, sparkling with intermittent waves of light like a monochromatic aurora borealis.

"Castiel, will that give Dean enough time to recover?" Sam asked suddenly.

He stood up and stretched before moving closer to Castiel.

"He's obviously weak, Sam. He can't go anywhere near Lydia, even after the night is over," Castiel admonished, staring at Sam with cold blue eyes.

"That's fine. I'll find her myself. We have to find a way to banish her, Castiel. I don't mind dealing with the spirits, but a vengeful angel is not what I need right now," Sam retorted as he folded his arms across his chest.

"No, Sammy," Dean said quietly.

"What are you trying to say, Dean?" Sam asked with surprise.

"You're not going there alone. I'm coming with you, even if you have to drag me there," Dean said with a weak grin.

"No way, Dean! If you lose any more of Michael's blood, you could die," Sam shouted, throwing Dean a warning look.

"I know. And you could die if this angel bitch lays her hands on you," Dean shot back, wincing as he propped himself up on the bed.

"I don't care if I live or die," Sam said softly.

"Come on, Sam. Don't talk like that. You can make this right. We can handle this together, man! Once we fry this angel, we can go back to hunting ghosts just like we used to," Dean said gently, trying his best to avoid patronizing Sam.

"It'll never be the same, Dean. Even if we defeat Lydia, I'll always have to deal with my sins. You shouldn't have to deal with it. That's why I plan on doing this alone," Sam said quietly. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as he turned his back to Dean and began packing his duffel bag.

"Where are you going, Sam?" Dean demanded, fighting against waves of pain that coursed through his body as he attempted to stand up.

"I'm just getting ready for tomorrow," Sam said quietly. He packed his Beretta, the rock salt gun, a few knives, and a book of incantations.

"I need to find out how to banish angels," Sam muttered to himself. He began to leaf through their old notes and any book that might have some information on the subject.

Dean stared at Sam and Castiel in disbelief.

"How can you let him do this, Castiel?" Dean yelled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he limped over to the angel.

"You should sit down, Dean," Castiel commanded. Dean shook his head vehemently and gestured in Sam's direction.

"_That_ is my little brother. You cannot let him march out there and take on an army of angry spirits and a crazy angel chick just because you think that he deserves this punishment!" Dean shouted angrily, staring deeply into Castiel's unwavering gaze.

"I won't let Sam die, Dean. I do need his help when we face Lydia. Sam will confront her directly, and I will banish her when she is distracted," Castiel explained calmly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

"Oh yeah?" Dean began, shoulders trembling with anger as he took a deep breath and balled his fists.

"What if your fucking plan doesn't work? What if this crazy bitch kills either one of you? What are you gonna do then? You need _both _of us there, Cas! An extra set of eyes and fists will do you a world of good," Dean said exasperatedly, feeling himself beginning to hyperventilate from the sheer exertion of his anger.

"Rest now, Dean," Castiel said softly.

"No," Dean murmured, trying his best to fight off the lassitude that dragged him back to the warm, comforting bed.

"I can't let 'em do that to Sammy, Cas. I have to help," Dean mumbled as he crawled back into bed and let his head unceremoniously flop down onto the pillow.

"Castiel, what are we going to do?" Sam asked in a tiny voice.

"We will leave at sunrise. Dean should still be asleep," Castiel said.

Sam nodded.

When Dean opened his eyes once more, he was greeted with pale sunlight and the smell of stale coffee.

Dean sat up in a panic. It was already morning! He glanced around the room and was terrified when he saw that it was empty.

Sam and Castiel were nowhere to be found, and Sam's duffel bag was missing.

Dean kicked off the covers and tried to get dressed as fast as he could, but he found it to be quite a difficult task when every inch of his body was sore.

It felt like he had the flu, but something else ate away at him.

He felt like his insides were empty. His limbs felt light and hollow, and his energy level was incredibly low.

Dean felt like he hadn't slept in days.

"Gotta get to Sammy and Cas," Dean mumbled to himself as he felt in the drawer for his Colt .45. He also grabbed his cell phone and a knife before heading towards the door of the motel.

"Cas, you better have turned off your freakin' angelic ADT system," Dean muttered as he put his hand on the doorknob.

He was shocked when it slid open with ease.

"Thank God," he whispered sarcastically as he headed down the hall, shifting his eyes left and right at every turn.

The motel was desolate. Half of it was still in ruins from the recent battle.

Dean wrinkled his nose as the acrid scent of smoke and decaying flesh met his nostrils.

Why did the apocalypse have to smell so fucking bead on top of everything else?

Dean made his way to the front desk of the motel, but he was dismayed to find that the Impala was gone.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean muttered. He followed the tire skid marks out of the parking lot.

They led him to the main street of Cheyenne, right in front of the capitol building.

The overcast winter sky created a stark, eerie backdrop for the scorched buildings and piles of refuse.

"Where the hell are you, Sammy?" Dean wondered aloud. He made his way past the piles of charred bodies and mangled cars.

Panic gripped Dean's heart as he began to jog down the streets, looking left and right for any sign of Castiel or Sam.

They were nowhere to be found.

Dean shivered in the frigid air and pulled his leather jacket tighter against his bony frame.

Had he really lost that much weight?

Dean could care less. He began to run down the street, aimlessly searching for his sasquatch of a brother and a trench coat-wearing angel who would normally stick out in a crowd like a pair of sore thumbs.

After several minutes, Dean grew tired again. He slowed down and paused by a stone park bench.

Dean gulped in the thin air, but it flew down his trachea like a flaming sword.

He felt his body protest as he took in breath after ragged breath in a desperate attempt to replenish his dwindling oxygen supply.

Dean did his best to ignore his inflamed respiratory system, trying to focus all of his energy on finding his brother.

He felt around for his cell phone and hurriedly dialed Sam's number.

Dean waited for three interminable seconds before he heard Sam's weak voice on the other end.

"Dean?" he said quietly.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, voice rising with fear when he heard the tone of Sam's voice.

"Where the hell are you?" Dean asked, pulling out his Colt .45 as he awaited Sam's answer.

"We're in the field right outside town, Dean- just a few blocks from the capitol. Dean, you can't come here," Sam said weakly.

"What the hell is wrong with you Sam? Are you all right? Where's Cas?" Dean shouted, heart racing as he began to run towards the park.

"He's right here, Dean. He's going to summon Lydia," Sam said quietly.

The line went suddenly dead.

"Sam? Sammy?!" Dean called, slamming the phone closed in frustration when he couldn't get a signal.

He had to get there before Lydia wiped them off the face of the earth.

A few blocks felt like he was circumnavigating the globe. Dean ran up to the main entrance to the park, but Castiel and Sam were nowhere in sight.

"Sam! Cas!" Dean called, looking down the rows of carefully-manicured trees that cast soft shadows in the weak morning light.

The grass was slippery with dewy frost, Dean noted with mild annoyance as he shook the moisture from his shoes.

He ignored the stabbing pain in his chest as he followed the main gravel path down the meandering rows of gnarled dogwoods and oaks.

Dean finally spotted Sam and Castiel in a small meadow beyond the treeline.

"Sam!" Dean called.

Sam turned around at the sound of his big brother's voice.

"Dean, stay back!" he yelled back.

"No, Sammy! You can't do this alone!" Dean shouted.

"Dean."

Dean whirled around to see that Castiel was standing right behind him.

"You've gotta stop teleporting like that, Cas," Dean exclaimed.

"You cannot be anywhere near Lydia. She has no plans for you, but she will if you get in the way. We plan to distract her while she goes to attack Sam, and I will use a sigil to exorcise her from her host body," Castiel explained quietly.

"What if it doesn't work, Cas?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Then you must escape," Castiel warned.

"Without Sam? No way," Dean growled in protest. Castiel shook his head in impatience.

"She will not kill Sam. She will just make the spirits attack him. She wants him to suffer because he was Lucifer's host. I do not know much of Lydia's past, but it is said that Lucifer convinced several of her favorite brothers and sisters to join him when they left heaven," Castiel explained.

"She wants to get revenge? Why is she still an angel? Shouldn't she be a fallen angel by now?" Dean asked.

"She essentially is a fallen angel, but her bloodlust and vengeance are forgiven because she wants to attack Lucifer, the prime enemy of heaven," Castiel added.

"Dean, you have to stay back. If you don't leave the area now, Lydia will find you. She may take out her revenge on you for helping your brother," Castiel warned.

Dean shook his head.

"I'm gonna stay here, Cas. If you need any help, I'll be there in a second," Dean said firmly.

Castiel finally accepted Dean's help with a reluctant nod.

"I'm going to draw a sigil while Sam distracts Lydia. Only I will be able to banish her, so we have to act quickly," Castiel said. He disappeared and reappeared at Sam's side.

"It's time," Castiel said quietly.

"Lydia, I am ready to discuss the terms of my punishment. Show yourself, O angel of the Lord!" Sam called, staring up at the heavens in fearful anticipation.

After several moments of silence, Sam raised a hand and closed his eyes.

"Lydia, I beseech thee, show thyself and allow us to be in thy presence!" Sam called, trying his best to sound respectful and to hide the disgust on his face.

A brilliant flash of light flooded the park like a tidal wave.

"I thought you'd never ask," came a gentle, musical voice from the sky.

Lydia appeared before Sam. She was clad in a blindingly bright white gown that caught the weak glint of the November sun in its folds.

"I never thought you'd actually accept your fate, Sam. You always struck me as a bit of a rebel, much like Lucifer," Lydia said with a melodious chuckle.

Sam swallowed a grimace and nodded curtly.

"I'm ready," he said quietly.

"First things first," Lydia began.

"What?" Sam asked, instantly wishing that he hadn't said anything.

"I know you're hiding something or some_one_," Lydia said with a wink.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked again, hoping that she continue to focus on him instead of turning around.

"I can smell a traitorous angel right behind me," Lydia said as she whirled around and caught Castiel's shocked gaze.

"I think it's time for you to stop interfering," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Castiel disappeared into thin air.

TBC…


	10. and we can have forever

We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 10 by asesina

disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns Supernatural.

a/n: Well, it's been a long and arduous journey. I went through periods of writer's block, but here I am, finally posting the tenth and final chapter of this story.

I must say, even if it suffered from pacing issues and plot holes, I'm proud to say that this is my first completed chapter fic. I usually did one shots in the past. This story evolved from an open-ended one shot to a bizarre post-apocalyptic journey, so thank you to those who stuck with it!

**Warning: this chapter will end with the deaths of major character(s). If you do not like this, please do not read the chapter!**

Enjoy!

* * *

"_And we can have forever_

_And we can love forever_

_Forever is our today_

_Who wants to live forever_?"

Queen, Who Wants to Live Forever

Sam stumbled backwards in shock. He frantically searched the park for any sign of Castiel, but the angel was long gone.

He turned his gaze back to Lydia and tried to hide the terror that shone in his hazel eyes.

"I never thought I'd see you like this, Lucifer," Lydia purred with a sly grin. She leaned forward and cupped Sam's chin with a cool, slender hand, and Sam shied away from her touch in disgust.

"My name is Sam," he whispered defiantly.

"You're the same person to me," Lydia hissed. She struck Sam with a powerful backhand slap that sent him skidding across the frozen earth.

"You," she began angrily, gliding towards Sam as if walking on air, "you are the cause of everything evil in this world!"

Sam swallowed nervously and glanced around again, searching in vain for a weapon, a branch, _anything_ to stop the angel in her tracks.

"_This is it_," Sam thought suddenly. He and Dean had caused the apocalypse and started to rebuild the world, and he was going to die in a picnic spot in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

"_What a fitting end for a life as screwed up as mine_," Sam mused sullenly as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position.

His curled his fingers through the frost-covered grass and leaned forward, exhaling slowly as the frigid air nipped at his ears and fingertips.

"_My official cause of death would probably be exposure_," Sam thought, grinning ironically despite himself.

"What's so funny, you piece of filth?" Lydia shrieked. She struck Sam again, and he nearly passed out as the edges of his vision danced with inky waves of unconsciousness.

"You're not going to kill me," Sam sputtered as he wiped a bit of blood from his bottom lip.

"Believe me, I'm going to kill you, whether directly or indirectly, whether it takes an instant or an eternity of suffering," Lydia spat. She laughed harshly and stomped on Sam's left hand.

"Let's make every bit of you useless," she added with a feral grin.

"Get away from me," Sam whispered coldly. He paused to cough up more blood, leaving a fine scarlet trail from his lips to his chin.

"Not a chance. What other angel has this opportunity? I'm standing in front of the veritable anti-Christ, the enemy of all humanity and heaven," Lydia exclaimed proudly.

"I'm going to make you suffer, Sam, or is it Sammy? It doesn't matter. I will wipe every trace of you from this earth when I am done, and I will be the great champion of heaven," Lydia continued, pacing around Sam's body as she looked for an area to attack next.

"This isn't right, Lydia. You're an angel. You're supposed to help humanity, not destroy it," Sam whispered.

"You're hardly human, Sam," Lydia shot back, delivering a swift kick to his side as he doubled over in pain.

"This is the end, Sam. You're alone. No Castiel, no daddy, no angelic mother or brave big brother to save you," she taunted, flicking her golden mane over a regal shoulder.

Sam closed his eyes and prepared for Lydia's next attack. Behind his closed eyelids, Sam saw a lifetime of memories: hunting, fighting with Dean, playing mindless road trip games in the back of the Impala, learning how to track and hunt with his father, imagining what his mother might've looked like when she sang him to sleep...

Sam let a single, stray tear slide down his cheek. He didn't care any more. He had ruined his life and the entire world, but his journey was almost over.

After a few moments, Sam opened his eyes and looked up at Lydia expectantly.

She was frozen in place, eyes wide and terrified as she slowly turned around to see why she was completely immobilized.

"You have it wrong, Lydia. Sam's still got me," came a familiar voice.

"Dean?!" Sam cried incredulously. He tried to find his brother, but Dean was nowhere to be found.

"Behind her, Sammy," Dean croaked.

Sam's eyes fell on a prone figure at Lydia's feet. Dean was breathing heavily, and he was surrounded by a pool of blood that was flowing steadily from his arm.

"Dean!" Sam cried.

"Stay back, Sammy," Dean said softly.

He finished drawing the sigil on the ground and unceremoniously grabbed Lydia's ankle.

"See ya, bitch," Dean spat with a weak grin.

Lydia's body was illuminated with a blindingly bright light as her eyes glowed white. A strangled shriek escaped from her lips as her host body crumpled to the ground.

A shot of white light shot up from the body and arced across the sky, landing somewhere far beyond the treeline.

When they finally realized that Lydia was gone, Sam suddenly became aware of Dean's ragged, noisy breathing.

"Shit," Sam muttered.

"Dean," he drawled weakly.

"Sammy, I'm beat. What do you say we head back to the- the motel?" he began, abruptly ending the suggestion with a hoarse cough.

"Yeah, yeah. I think we just need to rest," Sam said quietly.

"Where's Cas?" Dean managed, trying to lift his head as his eyelids drooped heavily.

"Dean, stay awake," Sam urged, crawling towards his older brother.

"Can't, Sammy. I- I just need to rest my eyes," he said softly, letting his wounded arm drop to the ground.

"No," Sam whispered brokenly.

"No!" he shouted, startling a flock of birds from their treetop perches.

"You can't die, Dean! Not now! It's all my fault again," Sam murmured. He let a few tears stream freely down his face, and they soon gave way to bitter weeping.

"Not dead yet, Sammy. I still have something to do," Dean said quietly.

"What, Dean?" Sam asked desperately.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I can't see you suffer any more. We've seen enough of this hell hole. Let's be free," Dean grunted, trying his best to form coherent sentences as he became more lightheaded and dizzy.

"Dean, I can't. I'm stuck here, remember? You - you can't die. I don't want to be alone," Sam cried, his voice thick with grief and despair.

"You don't have to be alone, Sammy. You don't have to be a wandering soul any more. You can have peace," Dean whispered. He touched his wounded arm gingerly and managed to smile weakly at Sam.

"Dean, save your strength. We'll get you to a hospital soon. Just please stop moving," Sam begged.

"See ya on the other side, Sammy. I should've told you this when we were kids, but I love you," Dean managed. A single tear sparkled in his eye and it almost brought Sam the verge of tears again.

"I love you too, but why are you talking like this?" Sam asked in a quavering voice as his breath hitched with a sob.

Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead.

"Let's hope this works," he whispered.

"_Requiscas in pace aeterna. Volas, phasma phasmatis_," Dean added. He felt a shudder pass through Sam's body, and then his brother was eerily still.

"Sammy?" Dean asked quickly.

He put his hand over Sam's and begged that he wouldn't have to see Sam like this for long. Seeing his brother die once was more than enough.

"It won't be long, Sammy," Dean whispered to the sky.

The grey clouds floated past his vision, curling around the gnarled black shadows that once resembled trees, and the veiled white orb that used to be the sun faded from his vision.

"We really were like Castor and Pollux, Sammy. Zeus put them together in the sky after they died. Man, I'd love to see your face when you realize that I actually remembered one of your geeky Greek mythology stories," Dean mused aloud. He tried to say something else, but the phrase died on his lips as his eyes fluttered closed and he breathed his last breath.

Epilogue

Where the streets have no name

Everything happened in a flash of light.

They flew past spinning stars, galaxies, conundrums and paradoxes yet undiscovered on this plane of existence.

Then, after a lightyear of silence, they arrived at a garden gate. A soft chorus greeted their ears, and they stepped forward onto an endless golden field.

The two young boys opened their eyes and drank in the sunlight and boundless blue skies.

They glanced at each other with wordless understanding as they began to grin uncontrollably.

The boys joined hands and raced down the path together, heading straight for the expectant, outstretched arms of a blonde-haired woman and a dark-haired man, both clad in heavenly white.

End.


End file.
